Against a harsh wind
by planet p
Summary: AU; Lucy has left her job to pursue further studies. Visiting her one day, Lyle runs into someone he knows. When she finds out just *who*, Lucy is worried. Chapter 1: First posted as part of Unspoken. Set in '06. Lyle/Che Ling, Emily/Lyle
1. Chapter 1

Lucy snapped the book shut, tired, and sighed; pushing the chair out from the table as she stood. She tugged the flowered bag from the desktop and slung it over her shoulder. She paused by a set of plastic tubs and dumped the book in her hands. Rubbing her eyes, she stood before the automatic doors. The great glass doors slid apart and she stepped out into bitter darkness. A shiver ran up her back and she folded her arms tight, hunched against the harsh wind.

* * *

**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters.


	2. Chapter 2

Two, maybe three days later, as she was standing outside the library taking a cigarette, Lucy cast a casual glance around her and spied someone she knew. Of course, in the warmer months, there'd be people everywhere; the courtyard'd be crowded, but, as it was winter, there weren't so many people.

Stifling a grin of amusement, because that'd only spoil her fun and give away that she found it funny that he'd come to see _her_, she tossed her chin and said, "Are you stalking me?"

"Stalking you? What a joke, Luce," he replied, and frowned. Oh, so suddenly he noticed _that_! "Since when do you smoke?"

"Since now," she snapped. "You're not my old man, give it a rest!"

"Hmm."

"_Touche_!" she replied, annoyed at his sudden dismissive attitude. Obviously he'd come to see her for a reason; she wanted to know the reason already! "Tell me you haven't offed my cousin," she groused.

"I have to say, her father wouldn't find that suspicious at all. Daughter winds up dead; I wonder who that could have been? I'm a lunatic, but I'm not a suicidal lunatic, Lucy."

"No, I'll bet you're thinking that's me!" she snapped.

"Shut up, Luce. I never said that; you did."

"I know how you think," she told him, starting to get jack off the cold. She'd be headed on into the library soon; it was warmer in there, marginally.

"Because, oh right, you're studying sociology, right!" He laughed. "You don't know nothin' about how I think, Luce, that's the point. I'm mad, I don't think right. You ain't mad. How can you understand how I think, Luce?"

"I guess I really can't," she replied, peeved but not letting it show.

He shook his head, prompting him to wonder if he was wondering why they were arguing. Midori hadn't been offed, neither of them liked the cold particularly; they should have had plenty of things to agree on, but they were arguing instead. How typical of Lyle, she thought. Well it sure as shit wasn't her! He was the one starting all the arguments, all the time! That just wasn't her!

Trying for a more amicable tone, he asked, "How are you anyway?"

She just had to laugh. So he'd think she was rude. She could live with that. "Use your eyes," she told him.

"You always were one for conversation," he remarked.

"And you always were one for sharin' one's innermost feelin's, my boy! You can talk!" she laughed. "You tell me how the fuck you are, and maybe I'll tell you how the fuck _I_ am – if I believe your crazy ass!"

He shook his head. Like that was ever going to happen. Ever.

"I thought so," Lucy replied. "How's that sister or yours?"

"Angry."

"Ain't she always!" She frowned. "No? You seen her… smile? Laugh at somethin' someone said? That Broots fella maybe? He's always sayin' stupid stuff. Maybe it was your Sydney? Maybe he tryna cheer her up? Good luck, fella, I say!"

"He's not 'my Sydney'," Lyle replied, irritated. "And would you talk properly."

"I ain't had enough ciggies for your shit, boy! Beggin' your pardon, but I'll talk any fuckin' how I want."

"Charming."

"Charmin' is my middle name, darl." She stomped her feet a bit and walked over to the bin so she wouldn't feel compelled to litter, and threw away her cigarette. "Come inside and buy me a disgusting coffee," she told him. "It's too cold out here; I wasn't born a polar bear."

"It's winter," Lyle replied.

"And I hate winter! It's too fucking cold! If you haven't got anything you want to say, then at least make yourself useful and get me a warm drink! Coffee, preferably!"

"What else is there?"

"Hot chocolate," she replied in distaste. If it wasn't caffeinated, she didn't want to know about it! She needed something to wake her up.

"Luce?"

"What?"

"How are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Cold. Alive. I'm managing. Weren't you the one who said, 'Sure, Luce, I have confidence in you'… whatever?"

He sighed. "You can do whatever you want, Lucy. If you want to."

She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm her fingers up. "I want _a coffee_. It's not like I'm asking for much!"

He sighed, and gestured ahead of him.

* * *

"Do you have any classes coming up… in the very near future… say, in a few minutes very near future, or…?"

"At three."

"Right. Do you want to show me around, in that case?"

"Around where?" Lucy asked, looking from side to side suspiciously.

"The library, Luce. Goodness!"

She tossed her chin. "You're the one that said you're not to be trusted," she reminded him. "I'm just takin' your advice, for a _change_!"

"For a change," he replied vaguely, watching a woman replacing the New books on the shelf dedicated to new releases.

"Someone you know?" Lucy asked, looking the woman over. "Cos, she's not your type, boy."

"No one… I know," he said, returning his attention to her. "So… on your feet."

Shaking her head, she told him, "If I was your sister, you know I would have slapped you by now!"

"She was always taught not to make a scene, so maybe not."

Lucy stood up. "But she's trying her hardest to break out of that mould, now, you see, so she'd have slapped you one and had fun doin' it!"

"I doubt it. She'd construe that as encouraging me to thinking that we had some sort of relationship that we don't. In any case-"

Lucy smiled, shaking her head. "Breaking out of the mould may or may not be construed as suspicious behaviour by the company, and may or may not bring her reliability and or loyalty into question which would be… very dire. Am I a mind reader or just spookily prophetic?"

"Don't remind me!"

Lucy frowned. "Remind you of what?"

"Nothin', Luce. So, are you going to show me around or am I going to have to ask that… Come on."

Lucy laughed, and trudged off in the direction of the stairs. "If you start getting all mouthy, I'm going to turf you out the nearest window," she told him.

"Why would I do that?" he asked.

"You always do! 'Ooo, you call this a _library_!' Don't I know it!"

"That was _once_, Lucy. _Once._ How do you even remember stuff like that?"

"Maybe it's because your sister was giving you a particularly nice look. Like she wanted to shoot you! A lot!"

"Hmm. She has no sense of humour."

"And neither do I, clever clogs!"

"I won't say anything, you have my word. Well, I'll be good."

"You had better, boy, cos I'll be holding you to 'your word'." She grabbed his arm. "And watch where you're walking, damn!"

"I am watching."

"No, you're thinking about your sister shooting you! You're crazy: your own words!"

"Am I? Shouldn't I be?"

"Yes, you are! And no, you shouldn't be!"

"Okay, fine, I've stopped."

Lucy stopped in front of another set of stairs. "What are you thinking about now?"

"Sydney and…"

"Sydney and… who?" she prompted.

"What? Ah, Jarod. Sydney and Jarod."

"Why are you thinking about Sydney and Jarod?"

"Does it matter? I'm not thinking about my sister."

Lucy sighed and nodded to the stairs. "Do you want to look at the books or do you want to read the paper? I haven't read my Stars today."

"We'll have a look at the paper. Go read your Stars."

"So I'm guessing your sister's angry because she hasn't caught Jarod yet," Lucy supposed, heading for the newspapers.

"Yeah, I guess so."

She nodded, pulling one of the papers towards her and flicking to the inside of the front page to find the directory and the page the horoscopes were on. "Mmm-hmm. And you've got that bet, if I remember correctly. I bet that's…" She looked up and around her, then, seeing that Lyle was still standing by the stairs where they'd been standing at least half a minute ago, she made a face and stalked over to him. "Would you stop staring at that girl like maybe she's gonna come over and ask for your number if you stare at her long enough, and get your ass over where the newspapers are so I can read you your Stars."

"I don't have any Stars," Lyle replied, walking back with her to where the newspapers were. "And I wasn't staring at some… girl."

"Of course you weren't."

"It's creepy."

"I _know_! What's your star sign?"

"I don't have one."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Everyone has a star sign, dummy. When's your birthday?"

"My…? January third."

"You're a Capricorn."

"If you think so."

Lucy rolled her eyes again. "Pay attention! Girls are totally into astrology and horoscopes and Fate!"

He laughed.

"I'm serious!"

"Lucy, why are you telling me this?"

Lucy gave a pointed look in the direction of the woman from the bookshelf earlier. "She's not your type, you're hardly going to," she drew a line across her neck, "her. You're so asking her her number when we're done here."

"I'm _so_ not!" Lyle replied, unenthusiastic.

"I'm not the one who's been staring at her like there's something wrong with me!" Lucy snapped.

"Rubbish!"

"She could be good for you," Lucy replied, sensibly.

"With that hair! The neighbours would think she was a witch and- you know who it would be paying to get her out of jail when she did something brainless like… like something that brainless redheaded girls do…"

"Wow, I actually feel offended for brainless redheaded girls right now, Lyle! Watch out, I might slap you!"

"Feel free."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're just saying that because you want the girl to think you're a total jerk so she won't give you her number even if you asked!"

"Lots of women like men you aren't… very trustworthy, so why wouldn't she give me her number?"

"Because she's a nice girl."

"Because… you're on her side! How can you be on her side? You don't even know her, Luce!"

Lucy shrugged. "Life is tough, get over it." She grinned. "What can I say? It's all that witchy charm!"

"Creepy, Luce, creepy."

Lucy laughed at the disturbed look her was giving her. "So how come you were staring at her if you're not _a little bit_ interested?"

"Maybe I like redheads… now…"

Lucy widened her eyes. "Maybe she's Diana!"

Lyle frowned. "Right. Don't make me laugh! Cox and… a library girl! Anyway… Diana's eyes are blue."

"Maybe Cox lied!"

"If he lied about her eyes, then how do you know he didn't lie about her hair, too?"

"Because he'd said too much, realised that he had, and was trying to throw us off the scent."

"Likely story, Luce."

"But it's plausible!"

Lyle shrugged. "What's it to you if I hook up with Tinker Bell over there or not, anyway?"

"Because I'm a deviant and think she'd be a star in a porn flick!" Lucy replied with a straight face.

"And people say I'm strange."

"You are."

"Tah."

* * *

"You know her, don't you?" Lucy asked, looking up from the paper she'd taken with her and sat down to read. "You've met before."

"We have not," Lyle replied.

"You have," Lucy added.

"Yeah. Maybe…"

Noticing the vagueness of his tone, Lucy frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? Either you've met or you haven't?"

"Maybe she's supposed to be dead," Lyle told her.

"What?" She blinked.

"That's Jarod's sister."

"Then…"

"Then nothing, Luce. Forget I even mentioned it."

"You're not going to…" Lucy frowned.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Then, are you going to… Later…"

"I'm not going to anything later," Lyle replied.

"Why? Maybe she knows where Jarod is?"

Annoyed, Lyle told her, "Lucy, I didn't come hear because I thought you'd shacked up with Jarod and you'd stashed him in your hideout. I came here because I wanted to know how you were."

"Promise?" Lucy whispered.

"Cross my heart and swear to die."

Lucy bit her lip. "Are you serious?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Why wouldn't I be serious, Lucy?"

"Why are you letting her go?"

"It must be her incredible witchy powers," he commented.

"I don't trust you."

"When does anyone?"

"I don't want you to kill her," Lucy whispered. She closed the paper and folded it in half, and stood up. "Let's go and see if we can find something to eat."

"Why?"

"Because I want to. Because I'm hungry."

"Fine."

Lucy didn't move. She felt like screaming. Like screaming at Jarod's sister to run. Even though she knew all of the stories, she'd never said anything before; not to the police, not to anyone who might be able to stop him. But she wasn't that person anymore, she wasn't that Lucy; she was a different Lucy. She cared about other people, she cared about how people behaved and how the world was going. It was her world. She wanted her world to be a good one.

"You're hurting me," she breathed, feeling suddenly choked, suddenly like crying.

"I'm not touching you."

She put a hand to her chest. "In here. You hurt me when you tell me those stories."

"Perhaps you should see a cardiologist."

Lucy stared at him. Seeing a cardiologist was the last thing he would have recommended, usually. He didn't like 'specialists', he didn't think they were in it for the right things; it was a rare doctor that you could say really cared, he'd told her once. You don't have to think they're wonderful, or they're something special; you don't have to look up to them, just because they're 'university qualified'.

"Don't hurt her," she whispered.

"I said I wouldn't, didn't I?"

"I don't believe you."

He sighed and held out his hand for hers. "Come on, let's go and have lunch."

Even though her own hand was shaking, she took his hand. "I'm not those girls," she told him. "I know what you're like. I know the things you do."


	3. Chapter 3

_There is laughter; it tinkles like a stream over smooth, water-worn rocks and old logs. And red hair. They walk along the river's edge. Her mother told her not to get so close, but she doesn't listen. She can hardly hear her mother's words for the sound of the rushing, meandering water. It sounds like the blood that pounds through her chest when she runs, ringing in her ears; it sounds like life._

_She can't believe why anyone would question why a river needs water, why life needs a course to run along, a path to take, air to breathe, a hand to hold. At that age, anyway._

_She is in love with the water and the earth and the air. Today, she is in love with the river, with the whole big thing; it is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. She loves the way she can hear her footsteps when she walks, but just. She loves the way she doesn't make a sound when she moves through the air, except for her breath, and the soft, soft sound of her bare feet._

_Her mother told her not to, but she left her shoes at the car; just outside by the back door._

_She's being a child, taking an unnecessary risk, seeing how far she can go out on a log that dips down into the water from the bank._

_From the bank, her mother's voice startles her, but she regains her balance and turns quickly to look at her mother as though nothing happened; she can hear her heart admonishing her, though. Pound, pound, pound. It's knocking at her door; Come back from there, it says. Don't be a fool._

_I'm not a fool, she replies, I'm alive._

_Her mother says, "Sweetie, don't play games. You're not the only one in my life, you know; but you're the only one I can hold and…" Her voice trails away; she thinks she sees tears in her mother's eyes, but maybe it's just the sun._

_"And what, Mom?" she asks, making her way back along the log to the bank and jumping down onto the soft ground with hardly a sound._

_"And I love you," her mother finishes, and now she's sure that those are tears in her eyes; she's sure that that was a hitch in her mother's voice._

_"What's wrong, Mommy?" she asks, suddenly sensing that something is wrong and very near to alarm. "Is Daddy alright?"_

_Her mother nods, very slowly. "I think so. I hope so. I'm not talking about Daddy, sweetie."_

_"Then…" she pauses, thinking about her mother's confession, about her next words. "What are you talking about?"_

_"You… You're not an only child, sweetheart," her mother says, finally, in a quiet voice. "You have… two brothers… They were… taken from us…"_

_Her eyes go large, too large; she thinks she must look very silly, but she can't make her eyes go back to the way they had been before; she can't bring her smile back._

_"And I can't hold them! I can never hold them and tell them that I love them; how much I love them!" Her mother's words come out in a rush, as though they are like the river, running, running, running so fast; and then she is crying, and her sad words have stopped talking, but they are running down her face, and Emily can't do anything but stand there, on the bank, with that stupid, stupid look on her face._

_In that moment, she wishes she was someone else, anyone else; someone who could wipe that idiot look of shock and confusion off her face and walk up to her mother and hold her. But she's not that person, and she hates herself._

* * *

He wasn't paying attention; Lucy was telling him something, and he wasn't listening. Snapping back to reality, he tried to catch the drift of what she was saying before she noticed anything was up and asked about it. He didn't need that, thanks.

She wasn't really hungry, he noticed, and thought that it was probably the cigarettes. People always said that about cigarettes, and he supposed he halfway believed it. She'd bought herself a sandwich, but she'd only really picked at it. Maybe she'd take it with her for later?

"You eatin' that, or what, Luce?"

"What?"

"You waitin' for the aliens to come and abduct it?"

She shot him an annoyed look, as though bringing up aliens in a busy university cafeteria was way immature, not to mention social suicide. Then she shot the same annoyed look at her sandwich and picked at a bit of the crust.

"I'm not hungry," she replied, at last.

"Bit of a turnabout from before, don't you think?" he replied.

"If I'm hungry and I don't eat, then I stop being hungry… Until I get hungry again and it really fuckin' gives me curry."

"Then why don't you eat your sandwich," he suggested.

"I'm not hungry, deaf boy."

"But you will be later."

"Then I'll eat it later," she snapped.

He sighed and decided to give up and change topics. "Why are you so mad?"

"Why are you?" she scowled.

"I'm not mad," he replied calmly.

She shook her head. He just never listened, did he?

"I'm not mad," he repeated. "Why would I be?"

"I'm talking about you being a fuckin' loony!" she hissed almost through her teeth.

"My mistake," he replied. "Why am I a fuckin' lunatic? Who can say, really? Likely, it'll be a… a lot of things. Just… they just compounded and… what do you know… loony boy!" He frowned. "Lucy-"

"Shut up."

"Don't-"

"Shut up!"

He sighed again, and looked away from her, to the large glass windows that ran from ceiling to floor. He might have nodded and left it at that, amicably, but he was sick to death of everyone always thinking he couldn't be trusted… ever!

Not even once!

Not even for one moment!

Oh, what are you complainin' about, boy! You know they're right. So shut it. Just… shut it.

_Yeah_, he thought, _probably._ If he was anyone else, he wouldn't trust him either, he thought.

* * *

When they got back to the library, Lucy busied herself searching through the journals, so he decided to take a walk upstairs and look at the books. It was obvious she didn't want to talk to him – she was mad at him – so he'd decided to let it go; let her get over it in her own time. There was no point in his getting mad at her for being made at him, he figured. That'd be… highly stupid. And, if there was one thing he didn't regard himself as, it was highly stupid. Maybe stupid upon occasion, even upon quite the frequent occasion, but not exceedingly stupid, all of the time.

For instance, he told him, right now. You see, you do know how to leave well enough alone, when the urgency calls for it. Don't piss Luce off; she's okay, she doesn't continually act as though she's got to play all contrived and fake around you. She's just Luce; you're lucky for that, you know. She's still a real person when you're around; can you really say the same for certain others?

Having a look at the signage put up at the top of the shelves, he decided to check out the psychology section. Sure, he didn't believe in psychology as a rule, not… like that… It was a bit of amusement, nonetheless.

For a couple of minutes, he looked at the books without any real interest, expecting Lucy to come looking for him with an angry look on her face, but it didn't happen; she was intent on finding that journal, he supposed. Then he spotted something with a familiar name on it; covered in dust, and at the bottom of the shelf, but there nonetheless. He smiled.

He knelt down and took the book out of the shelf, and stood up to read the front cover.

* * *

_She doesn't run then, not then, but later. She walks with her mother, lamely, trailing behind her as they head back to the car. The enchantment of the river, of the outdoors, has been pushed back into the furthest recesses of her mind, replaced by that deep, deep hatred. And still… still, she feels… jealous. Jealous that she's not the only one. And it only makes her hate herself all the more, it only fuels that fire._

_She doesn't know their names, how old they are, their birthdays, what they look like, if they have her mom's eyes, or her dad's, or neither of their parents'. She doesn't want to know. She _never_ wants to know. And her mom doesn't say._

_Later, later than the car trip into town, even, her mom asks her what she'd like for tea, and she realises how quiet she's been. She hasn't said much of anything really, not since her mother's confession. So she makes a big show of it; she makes out like she's starved, though she's not really hungry. Well, she is, but she can't even think about eating. She does anyway; she can't let her mom know anything is wrong, somehow. She feels like such a cheat – a big, fat cheat!_

_She waits until her mom's fallen asleep before going out; all the while, she tells herself it's only to clear her head, it's only to bring some clarity back into her thoughts, but every step that takes her a step farther from her mother, from the motel room they share, is a step that cranks up the cooling dial in her heart, another step that leaves her feeling more hollow than the last._

What are you doing?_ she thinks. _What are you thinking? What are you… planning?

_When she finally realises that she's planning something, that her steps are leading to somewhere, she feels a thrill of terror race through her. She wishes someone will stop her, just stop her, and ask her where she's going, or what she's doing out at such a late hour, but there's no one._

_Before she knows it, her steps have become strides, and then she's running; she doesn't stop for the street lights, not even for the stitch in her side. And then she realises… she's smiling. Why is she smiling?_

_And then she comes to a tall, tall building. It's a parking structure, she thinks, and it is fucking magnificent. It's nothing to look at twice, no, that much is true, but it's _great_, it's everything she's dreamed about; it is the answer to her question._

_Slowing her strides to a calm pace, she makes her way along ramps and past silent, sleeping vehicles, great empty spaces that speak to her in the echo of her footsteps, the echo of purpose and intention, and the very path of her life._

_She is shivering, but it doesn't matter. She's smiling, but she isn't happy; she's light, so, so light. She knows what is going to happen next; she knows exactly what she will do next._

_She stops when she reaches the top, standing amongst the stars and all of that darkness that could have, conceivably, been darker. She stops to think about her hair in the starlight, the colour of her cheeks, the shine in her eyes that isn't from tears but because she's finally made her mind up to do something, and she is doing it._

_And then she walks out to the edge of the roof and stops to admire the view, and think about flying._

_People were never meant to fly, she thinks. Not in airplanes, not into space, not in hot air balloons. Last year, she remembers, she'd so, _so_ wanted to go in a hot air balloon. It had hurt how much she'd wanted it. Strangely, it doesn't hurt anymore. Even though, thinking back on it, she finds herself admonishing herself for her childishness, it doesn't hurt. All of the pain is just… gone. It's a fantastic feeling!_

_"It's cold, yeah?"_

_She didn't hear the boy come up to her – and he _scared_ her – but when she turns her chin to regard him, it's with a calmness she doesn't know she has, she doesn't know even existed._

_"Are you waitin' for someone?" the boy goes on in a funny accent. "I suppose you've been waitin' a while."_

_"No," she replies._

_"No…?" he questions._

_"I'm not waiting. For anyone."_

_The boy replaces his frown with a smile surprisingly fast; she finds herself caught between alarm and a faint feeling of being impressed._

_"I guess I'm the one who was waitin', then," he says. "What's your name?"_

_"What's it to you?" she asks, smiling back at him, and it occurs to her that's he's a few years older than a boy; he's a young man, now. She's not a bit afraid of him, though, and it's really great; it's _better_ than great – it's awesome! She's sure she's grinning, but it only makes her want to giggle. "What's _your_ name?"_

_Has he guessed her intentions? she wonders briefly, her thoughts moving with lighting speed, always changing, always moving on. Is he worried? Maybe he thinks, if she does step over the edge, that the police will think he pushed her, or that she was frightened of him and got a bit close, that's all._

_A real life murder mystery, she thinks, and likes it; she's always liked mystery novels._

_"Jan," the young man replies. "What's yours?"_

_She considers making something up, but changes her mind at the last moment. "Emily."_

_"You're not trying to hurt someone are you, Emily?" he asks, and his question brings a frown to her face._

_"It won't hurt," she tells him. "For a moment, maybe; and then it won't. I'm not trying to hurt anyone." She's sure of herself, when she says this, but the young man's expression says he's going to make a nuisance of himself and, more than likely, just because he can._

_"And what about your family?" he asks._

_"I'm an orphan!" she snaps quickly, though she doesn't know why. Then, she feels angry; angry at this young man for making her lie, angry at him for being such a sticky beak, angry that he's playing whatever stupid game he is, wasting her time. She wants to wallop him over the back of the head, but she doesn't rise to the bait, in case that's what he wants._

_She turns back to look out on the city, and-_

_She screams._

_The stupid boy has grabbed her around the middle and decided he's going to play good Samaritan tonight. Maybe he's bored, she doesn't care. She screams and screams, all the while, kicking and scratching. It's not his choice, it's hers, and she's already made her mind up! It's _her choice_!_

_She'd thought she was alone, she'd thought that it was just rotten luck that the young man had turned up when he had, but maybe she'd been wrong. She and the young man are not alone, a security guard is quickly there, eyeing the young man suspiciously so that he puts her back on her feet hastily and pats her head, ruffling her hair. "My apologies, sir," the young man says, "we were just playing. Look at the time!" He turns a look on Emily. "You, young lady, should be in bed, fast asleep." He shakes his head. "She's upset there weren't any vacancies at pony club, so I promised we'd stay up late and watch videos. Do I get the keys back now?"_

_Emily stares at him for a long moment, then she shakes her head and mutters, "Drama club."_

_"Cousins!" the young man laughs._

_Emily points a finger at him, raising her voice to say, "I don't know him," but it's in a way that quietly says she does. "I want ice cream!"_

_The young man sighs. "And then I'll get the keys back?"_

_"I'll think about it," she snaps._

_"Well… I'm gonna need the keys to get into the car and…"_

_Glaring, she stalks away, and listens to him follow her. She ducks down behind a car, as though to pick up a key she'd dropped, and snaps, "There!" When she comes out from behind the car, she sees the security guard nod and she crosses her arms as though she's still pissed off about missing out on drama club._

_When she's sure the security guard has gone, she drops the glare and stares at the young man as though she'd really like to shove him off the top of the roof, just out of principle, if only it wouldn't kill him. "You liar!"_

_Just like that, he stops smiling. "You're not funny, or cute, kid," he snaps, reaching for her arm and hauling her after him in the direction, she assumes, of his car. "Where am I dropping you off?"_

_She doesn't say a word. He's such a fucking psycho! she thinks. She decides she's not telling him a thing._

_"Don't make me take you to the police station," he says seriously, and, reluctantly, she gives up the name of the motel where she's staying with her mom, the room number._

_He lets go of her arm to open the car, then gets the door for her and watches her until she gets in, slamming the door after her. It's not until they're out of the parking structure and on the road, that she sneaks a look at him. He looks angry, she thinks. She wonders, for a moment, if he has a little sister._

_She's about to tell him that he's going the wrong way when she realises that he's just stopping in at the service station, but he pulls up in the parking lot, instead._

_She crosses her arms in defiance and says nothing._

_Finally, he says, "I said I'd get you an ice cream. Are you intendin' on gettin' out or are you jus' gonna sit there with that morose look on your face?"_

_"I don't want one!" she snaps._

_"No?"_

_"No!"_

_She turns to glare at him when he shakes his head. "Take me back to the motel!"_

_"I want to see you go inside," he replies. "In fact, I'd really feel more comfortable if I got to talk to one of your parents."_

_She feels anger bubble up inside her, making her face flame. "No way!"_

_"Yes way."_

_"I'll tell my parents you tried to take advantage of me!" she threatens, her voice on the verge of wobbling._

_"Is that so?"_

_"Yes!"_

_"Aren't you a nice girl," he comments, and suddenly it strikes her that he might just hit her, or worse. He only gets out of the car and slams the door after him._

_She watches him go off, into the diner, and glares at the steering wheel. He's taken the keys with him, so there's no chance of making a break for it, she thinks, unless she gets out and runs._

_She doesn't._

_She waits in the car._

_When he comes back, he passes her a container of hot chips and gravy and an ice cream but she doesn't make a single move to take it, so he puts it down on the chair between them._

_"Don't be a terror," he tells her. "And start thinkin' of somethin' to tell your mother."_

_For a long moment, it doesn't occur to her that he'd said 'mother' and not 'parents;' she's preoccupied in her thoughts, realising that what he'd really told her is that if she can think of it, he'll go along with it, lie or not._

_It's not until she's chewing on one of the chips that it hits her and she says, "How do you know it'll be my mom who'll come to the door?"_

_"I'm good at lyin', but I'm better at lyin' when it's to a woman," he only replies._

_"Because we're stupid!" Emily shoots hotly._

_"You, young lady, are not a woman. You are a child. And no, it is not because I think women are 'stupid;' I just feel more comfortable with women than I do with men."_

_When they stop for a red light, Emily asks, "Why?"_

_"It's stupid," he says. "I'll grow out of it."_

* * *

Absorbed in the book he was reading, Lyle didn't notice the woman who'd stopped nearby and was standing very still, staring at him. For her part, she didn't move any closer, or try to start some conversation, she merely stared.

It was only when he was turning over to a new chapter that he glanced up briefly, thinking that he must be standing in the way of something she was wishing to take out, that he noticed her and realised, well, no, she probably wasn't waiting for him to move so she could grab some book.

Shutting the book, he decided it was time to go and find Lucy, and left her in the aisle alone. He had nothing to say to her.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucy, it appeared, had disappeared off to somewhere; to class or to talk to a lecturer, he couldn't be sure. Or maybe she'd met someone she knew and they'd gone off for a chat. It didn't matter; she was gone.

He found a seat in the lounge where they'd read the paper together and opened the book he'd been reading earlier to the third chapter.

* * *

_He was about to knock on the door when someone coming around the corner in the hallway caught his attention and he turned to see Sue standing all the end of the hall. She didn't come any closer, she just stood there._

_"Sue?"_

_There was something wrong, he thought. Usually she would have… she wouldn't have been staring at him like that, in any case._

_"I don't want to be alone," she said, but not really to him, just… to someone._

_He frowned, stepping away from the door towards her._

_She didn't look at him any different; she just stared, like before. "I don't want to be alone," she repeated._

_He was about to say something when he noticed that the red on her hands wasn't nail polish, it was blood; it was dripping steadily onto the floor._

_He turned back to the door quickly and tried the door. It wasn't locked._

_It wasn't until then that he noticed that his hands were shaking, and then he noticed Sue, but she didn't look like she was up to saying anything to anyone… ever again._

_Closing the door behind him carefully, he crossed the room and knelt down beside Sue, careful not to get any of the blood on him. He wanted to take her hand, but he figured she'd have told him not to dare. "You're not alone, darlin'," he told her quietly, "C-cindy's with you. You're alright now; nobody's gonna hurt you now."_

_He stood up quickly and walked to the door. He had no business telling Sue it was alright when it clearly wasn't, _she_ clearly wasn't! She was dead! Her little sister, Cindy, was dead!_

_And it was all because of him!_

_"I don't want to be alone," Sue repeated, when he was out in the hallway again. She wouldn't stop; she was just going to go on saying the same thing over and over again until finally… she stopped._

_"I'm sorry!" he whispered, to no one, really, and ran._

* * *

He jerked awake suddenly and found himself staring at Jarod's sister. She had her arms crossed over her chest and was saying something he'd missed the start of, "… closing soon. Are you going to borrow that?"

"I don't have a card," he replied, "… to borrow… with…"

She didn't bother looking apologetic, she just put out her hand for the book and waited for him to pass it to her.

He handed her the book.

"We close in five minutes," she told him, as she walked away, and he looked around for a clock before remembering that he had a watch and might as well have looked at that.

Unfortunately, he thought, Lucy hadn't told him when her classes would be running until, or when they would end.

* * *

Perhaps nobody had expected that they would do anything; perhaps they had all just assumed they weren't all that bright and wouldn't understand what had happened, but Cindy and Sue weren't stupid, and they'd understood exactly what had happened to their older sister and her newborn baby, Sidra.

Their sister, they had known, would have been taken care of; they would never see her again. But her baby was another matter, they'd wanted it for a reason, they'd orchestrated its coming into the world for a reason, and they weren't, they'd assumed, about to send it out until they'd gotten out of it what they wanted.

His mother had tried to stop them, and he'd decided that he would finish what she'd started. They didn't have any right to be breaking up people's families they way they had, and still were, and he was going to stop it.

Cindy and Sue had wanted to help – to find their sister's baby – and he hadn't seen why he should stop them. Sidra was their family, they had a right to fight for her. He should have known how it would all end. He should have… but he'd wanted so much to be like her, like his mother, and nothing at all like the people who had adopted him. He'd wanted to help people.

But when you got mixed up in other people's business, then you played by their rules.

He should have known they would be the first to go. They weren't special, not like their sister's baby. Not like him.

But he'd been naïve, and every bit as stupid as they'd always thought.

_Why do you think they sent you away?_ he'd asked himself. _Because they knew you'd be of no use to them; because they knew you'd be stupid. And look how right they were. All you're good for is getting people killed. You're an idiot!_

* * *

He found somewhere to sit outside the library, and thought about Sidra. How old would she be? Was she still alive? He didn't know any of those answers, but he hadn't forgotten about her. Perhaps her name had been changed though, because he hadn't been able to find mention of her name in any of the files or databases he'd searched.

"You're waiting for someone," Emily said, and he frowned suddenly to see her standing in front of him, this time with the addition of a puffy light pink jacket. She might have left him alone, but, no, she had to make a nuisance of herself, not unlike the rest of her family, he thought with some annoyance. "The woman you were with earlier, I guess."

"No, I'm waiting for the pixies, actually," he muttered and earned himself a disapproving stare. _Yes_, he thought,_ read my mind. I am mad. Leave me alone. You want to live, you don't want to die._

"I've never liked the idea of those sorts of practises," she replied. "They'd don't make sense, if you ask me. Of course you're going to start seeing all sorts if your brain's starting to shut down, or if you've taken something to interfere with how it works. I'm talking about drugs, kids. Don't look so confused." She shook her head. It was a bad joke, she got that, but it was an effort, wasn't it?

"Don't you have, I don't know, someone to be meeting?" he shot, annoyed.

"No, actually, I don't," she snapped. "Thanks to yours truly and your fucking lunatic friends! I wouldn't want to risk someone ending up _dead_!"

"Bugger off."

"_You_ bugger off! I work here!" she yelled suddenly.

He sighed and got to his feet. "Could you shout any louder? I don't think they heard you in Antarctica."

She glared at him darkly but didn't say a thing.

"My friend thinks I should ask you out," he told her. "Personally, I didn't think that'd go down very well with you, but you know what they say: there's a first for everything."

"I'd like it better if you _fucked off and killed yourself_," she growled, "but, failing on that, I could do with a coffee, so long as I'm not the one paying for it."

"Yeah?"

"What do you think, Smartie!" she snapped, and stomped off in the direction of the closest parking lot.

"So that's a 'yes,' right?" he asked, catching up to her.

She glanced across at him darkly. "And they say you're supposed to be intelligent. Personally, I'm not seeing it."

He shrugged noncommittally. "I don't know who you've been talking to, but… actually, I just don't know."

She rolled her eyes and looked away, ahead of her, to where, at the top of the incline, they'd be able to finally look down on the car park. "You should leave your friend a message on her phone," she said, "so she won't worry you've been abducted by alien occultists."

"Not by aliens?" he questions, and she turned to fix his with a serious look.

"What the fucking Hell would aliens want with this planet?" she snapped. "You fucking tell me what we have going for us – oh, the lovely, wonderful, _smart_ humans!"

"Some of us are. Lovely, wonderful and smart," he added.

She laughed, not at all amused, and returned her attention to where she was walking. Sure, if he was trying to chum up to her, she wasn't buying it for a second.


	5. Chapter 5

They walked in silence the rest of the way, Emily motioning with a hand in the direction of her car.

When he saw that it was a Daewoo – and not a Porsche or even a BMW – Lyle frowned at her, but she didn't even bother replying.

She stopped to dig out her car keys, then pressed the central locking. "It's open," she told him, before opening her own door.

* * *

As he was reaching for the button to switch the radio on, Emily noticed the colourful thing Lyle was wearing on his wrist. She slapped his hand away from the dial and frowned, stopping for the light before turning a glance on him. "What's the aid of that?"

"The radio, or…"

"Or _that_!" she nodded. "That horrendous thing you're wearing that may or may not be some sort of bracelet."

"It's a friendship bracelet," he replied.

"From your girlfriend?" she snapped incredulously.

"No… From my little brother."

"Your little brother?" she said, unbelieving.

"Well, my son."

"And you're wearing it?"

"Why not?"

"It makes you look like you're a loony, that's why not," she replied.

"Maybe I am."

"And you want to advertise that to the whole world, do you?"

He shook his head. "Green."

"To Sydney?"

"No…" He nodded to the windscreen. "Go. We have a green."

She returned her attention to the windscreen, with a scowl. "You did tell your friend-"

"Lucy," he interrupted.

She rolled her eyes. "You did tell her that we're… for lack of a better word, enemies, didn't you?"

"Well, I didn't tell her that we were best friends, if that's what you're getting at," he replied.

"So why does she think we should go out?" Emily asked, fixing him with a very brief, very _Ha-ha! Ew!_ expression.

"Well, actually, she might have changed her mind when I told her that you were Jarod's sister."

Slowing down for a parking space, Emily hit the indicator and pulled the car up outside of a shopping mall. "And is there something wrong with being Jarod's sister?" she asked, getting her seatbelt.

"There is if you're a Parker," he replied.

"And who says you are? Your sister certainly doesn't seem to believe it. What was it she said? Quit trying to make out you're my brother, quit pretending you're a part of this family… Something like that?"

"How charming of you to bring that up," he replied. "Yes, something like that. And, for the record, it barely even matters at all what Parker thinks; it mattered what James thought."

"James?"

"Mr. Parker."

"And does it matter what Raines thinks?"

"I shouldn't think so; he's the one who suggested it in the first place."

"Charming fellow."

"You have no idea. We're going to a café in some mall?"

Emily shot him an _Oh, I'm very, _very_ impressed! Can't you see it on my face?_ look and opened her door. "Oh yes!"

"Joy of my life," Lyle muttered, and got out so she could lock the car.

* * *

They were walking past the supermarket, Emily trying not to think about what she was going to have for dinner – she'd need to drop by the shops after the café – when she saw that the café was shut, and Lyle stop to grab someone's kid.

"Where are we goin', darl?" he asked the frightened 3-year-old. "We're not tryin' to skittle ourselves, are we? Or do we just have a very morbid fascination with hospitals, hmm?"

Emily turned away from the sight of the darkened café and quickly grabbed the kid off him, shooting him an expression of utmost annoyance. She put the child down quickly and the little girl shot off, presumably in the direction of her mother. Then she grabbed Lyle's arm and dragged him after her, back in the direction of the car.

"Hey, what happened to the café?" he asked.

"It's shut," she snapped. "Did you have to do that?"

"I didn't, no," he replied. "Would you rather have seen someone's kid run over? Who knew you were Little Miss Gruesome."

She shot him a disgusted look.

"I promise, I won't do it again," he said.

She didn't even bother replying to that.

* * *

Lyle stopped by the car to get his cell phone, which was ringing, and answered it. "Hey, Luce. You got out, finally. You're alive! Or… hopefully, you are. Maybe you're a zombie. What do you mean they're not real? Movie magic? Nooo!" He laughed. "I'm at the mall. Well, outside the mall. With a girl, that's exactly right. Twins or what! That girl? Yeah, I guess… that girl."

Emily walked around the car and snatched the phone off him. "That _woman_!" she snapped. "_Sayonara!_" She ended the call and passed him his phone back, throwing him a glare whilst she was at it.

"I was talking to her," he replied, with a frown.

"Boo-hoo!" Emily snapped. "Then why aren't you with her? When you're with me, you talk to me!"

"Make that Little Miss Control Freak," he muttered, and opened the car door.

* * *

"Where to now, _bonita_?" he asked, as they were waiting at a roundabout.

"I'd appreciate if you'd refrain from calling me cutesy pet names!" she snapped.

"I'm a Parker, it's a Parker thing. I can't help myself!"

"Help yourself or you're getting out of this car and walking back to the university!" she growled.

"Someone's joyful today," he commented.

"Someone is! Much!"

He sighed. "Alright, where are we going, Emily?"

"Burger King."

"Lucy's right," he joked. "I need to marry you. You're completely, utterly my dream girl!"

"Go kill yourself!"

"Hold my hand, baby?" he asked, then, when she didn't reply, decided he was disappointed. He was sure she would throw him out after that one.

* * *

Burger King was ridiculously packed, but, Emily reasoned, it was the dinner hour. She stood in line for something like ten minutes before she was able to order, stuck having to listen to three teenaged schoolgirls laughing and giggling about something they'd apparently read on MySpace or Facebook. When she'd finally managed to place her order, and have it brought to the counter, she made her way back to the little table she'd told Lyle to hurry up and get over to before someone else took it.

With a heavy sigh, she noticed that he'd started some meaningless conversation with someone's little 4-year-old and shot him a withering look. Did he always have to annoy other people's kids? They weren't the Goddamn wildlife!

The little African-American girl turned to look at Emily when she noticed that she was going to be the other person at the table. Emily smiled at her. She frowned and turned back to Lyle. "Is she your wife?"

"Not exactly," he replied.

The little girl's mother hurried over and grabbed her hand. "Let's go, Celeste."

Celeste waved.

When he waved back, Emily shot Lyle an annoyed look. "You said you'd stop that!" she reminded him.

"Did you see me grabbing her?" he asked calmly. "She came over to talk to me. What was I supposed to do, tell her to rack off, get lost? Her father's depressed because he can't get a job; there's no money. Her mother's depressed about the same thing. That was her older sister, Jenelle. Jenelle wants to be a hairdresser someday, but right now she works at a supermarket. It's really cool, she gets to meet lots of people, but it's not so cool in the money department. Her mother doesn't think it's safe; all of those people, think of all the diseases floating around in the-"

"Shut up," Emily told him.

He sighed. "What, now you're going to tell me I can't talk to other people?"

"No, you can't talk to other people's kids," she replied darkly. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a complete ignoramus! I know what the people you work for do with cute, _clever_ little kids!"

"Well, I'm not working right at this moment," he said. "You might have noticed…"

"Do you want my coffee on you!" she growled.

"Is that some kind of inconspicuous sexual invitation?" he asked, and she jumped to her feet and slapped him across the back of the head.

"Get your mind out of the gutter for two seconds!" she snarled.

"Sure thing, babe," he replied, with a wink. "You can really slap, huh?"

Emily shook her head, sitting back down to add sugar to her coffee from those little one-teaspoon sized sachets with the restaurant's logo plastered across their paper packages. "What am I even doing with you? You're obviously incapable of sensible thought!"

He smiled. "Thank you, darlin'. Really, thank you."

She stirred her coffee, and refrained from saying any more, deciding, at that moment, that she would prefer the screams of little kids over anything Lyle might have to tell her.

* * *

Emily dropped him off at the top of the car park and drove off, leaving him to find his way back to his car alone. When he was back in his car, he took out his phone to ring Lucy to let her in on the good news; he'd made it back alive but he was pretty sure that was the end of that.

"Where are you?" Lucy asked.

"I'm not sulking, if that's what you're asking," he replied.

"No, that wasn't what I was asking. You're crazy, but you're not suicidal, remember. I haven't forgotten. Anyway, throwing yourself off some bridge over some girl who declined you is… so anticlimactic nowadays. I ask because I don't trust you, little Mr. Stalker."

"I'm not stalking her. Happy?"

"No."

"What do I have to do, Luce?"

"You know what," she replied dryly.

"Well, you know, Luce, I would if I could."

Her voice said she'd just rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I believe you, sure," she joked. "You're so… trustworthy, boy. You _like_ being a basket case, is all!"

"That ain't enti'ly fair, Luce."

"That's entirely fair!"

He smiled. "What say we go dancing later, Luce?"

"Can't."

"How come? Is someone holding you against your will, holding you hostage? Have you been abducted by aliens?"

"I have to study, brainless."

"That's me, love."

"Don't I know so!"

He laughed. "Luce, I love you!"

"Oh, I know it!"

"Don't kill yourself, 'ey? Nothin's worth that, girl. Night."

"Night," Lucy replied. "And don't be stalking anyone, silly boy."

"Would I?"

Lucy laughed falsely and hung up.

He listened to the sound of the rain and decided it was time to get a move on; he didn't much fancy a run in with campus security.

* * *

The sound of his phone ringing startled him out of his thoughts and he pulled up on the side of the road and grabbed his phone, hoping the car wouldn't do anything crazy like sink in the mud. "Lyle," he answered.

"Where are you right now?" a woman he couldn't say he recognised over the phone asked.

"Be a darl and tell me who you are, then I might think about answering that."

"What a moron!" the woman muttered quietly, then added, "It's Emily."

"Emily. How did you get my number, Emily?"

"It's on your business card, clever boy. You really should be more careful what you use as a bookmark. Where are you?"

"Driving… not driving. Where else would I be?"

"Where else would you be? Hmm, that's a hard one. Give me a moment. Creepy homicidal maniac with disgustingly bad pick up lines? Killin' folk, maybe?"

"That's tomorrow night," he replied.

"My mistake," she mock apologised. "A question: Can you cook?"

"Why?"

"I'm hosting a dinner party!" She laughed. "I'm joking, _bello_. I have absolutely no idea what to make for dinner, and I'm _hungry_! So can you or not?"

"Moderately. And you know, I wasn't trying to impress you with my ridiculously awesome repertoire of pick up lines."

"Is that so?" Emily asked.

"That is so, _bella_."

"So why not?"

"'Why not?' she asks! I would think that obvious, darl, wouldn't you? A) You're not my type. B) You know enough to know the sorts of games I play and see right through them. C) I'll give it some thought."

She told him her address. "If I die of starvation, I'm telling Ducky it was you!"

"Who?"

"Forget it. Are you driving yet?"

"Amazingly, no. That must be a first. I'm looking at the street directory."

"Have you never heard of satellite navigation?"

He laughed. "Yeah, and next it'll be microchips in our brains! I don't think so, darlin'. It's bad enough that every time you use your card at an ATM or at some store with EFTPOS they know exactly where you are – I'm sure you share the sentiment – I don't need another creepy little thing to give me more grief! If I wanted that, I'd get a girlfriend. Give me a half hour and pray the lights are in our favour, babe."

* * *

"Why are you peeling the potatoes with a knife?" Emily asked, leaning back against the countertop and frowning at him.

"What do you peel them with?" he asked, frowning back at her.

"A peeler," she suggested.

"Ttt! Peelers are for girls."

"Excuse me?"

He smiled. "They're for girls."

Emily shook her head. "Why are you making potatoes?"

"They're good for you."

"I thought you liked Asian food."

"And I like potatoes, too. Why? Don't you like potatoes?"

"No, I don't mind them."

"That was _so_ convincing!" he told her.

"Shut up!" She waved a hand at him. "Do whatever; I'm going to find myself a glass of wine."

"If you're offering, I'm right. Wine makes me…" He shook his head.

She paused in the middle of the room. "Makes you what?"

"Tired," he replied, finally.

She laughed.

"Oh, oh, do you want to peel the potatoes?" he asked, turning the knife around and holding it out for her to take.

She held her hands up. "No thanks!"

"There, see, that's what I thought. Don't tempt me, girlie."

She grinned. "Noted, boy-ey."

* * *

Returning with her wine glass and a good amount of red wine, Emily made a face. "How many people are you planning on inviting for dinner?"

"It'll just be you, me and invisible goblins, babe."

"The invisible what?"

"The invisible goblins," he replied, with a completely straight face.

She shook her head. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"Do you?"

"No! No, no goblins!"

"Don't worry, you can't see them. They're invisible."

"Tcht! No goblins!" she warned. "Invisible or otherwise."

He sighed. "Do you have pumpkin?"

"I'll look."

He shook his head. It was her kitchen, but she had to _look_. "You're on the ball, my girl."

"I'm not your girl," she called back. "And yes I am, thank you for noticing." She had a look in the fridge and came back with half a butternut pumpkin in plastic wrap. "I do," she told him, entirely pleased with herself, and placed the pumpkin down on the counter.

"I think I'll handle that, I don't want you to be damaging anything."

She stared at him, outraged. "It's dead!"

"But you're not," he replied.

She smiled at him in a way that quite plainly said, _No thanks to you._

"You're not just going to stand there with that look on your face all evening, are you?" he asked.

She scowled.

"Have a look and see if you have any beans?"

"I have the frozen ones," she gritted.

"They'll have to do."

* * *

"So, did your sister get one of those bracelets, too?" Emily asked, over the dinner table, which was really the kitchen table.

"If she did, she doesn't wear it. Not loony enough, I guess," Lyle commented.

"I guess." She reached for her glass of wine. "I take it Lucy and yourself aren't… an item."

"Oh yeah, she just likes threesomes with other women!"

Emily took a sip of her wine and put the glass back down. "That isn't funny, it's just sad."

"You have no idea who she is?"

"No. Except for what you've told me. That's all I know. Her name is Lucy. That's all."

"She used to work for me. At the Center. As my assistant. I was sure Jarod would have mentioned her to you."

"Why?"

"Well, you'd think he would have… worried for her, I guess."

"Maybe he did, maybe he just never told me about it."

"That's likely. After all, what does my sister tell me? Though, there is a slight difference between my sister and Jarod."

"The bet," Emily replied.

"Right on the money, my girl."

"So, what, are you serious? If you… catch Jarod first, then you get to live and she just… dies? Or someone is sent to do her in?"

"Personally, I think it's… ick. I have a certain fondness for the girl. It'll be sad to see her go, in a way."

"If you could actually feel sad about something," Emily added.

"Yeah. If I could."

"But it's you or her, right?"

"Right."

"So that's it, then. There's nothing you can do."

"Oh, there's something. There's something I could have done right from the start."

"What?" Emily asked.

"I could have died," he replied. "She doesn't think I'm her brother, much less her twin. What if she's right? What if I… took this body?"

Emily made a face. "You people from the Center – just plain crazy, that's what you are."

"Crazy people," Lyle muttered. Oh, yeah, weren't they just the worst!

Emily took another sip of her wine. "So what?" she said finally. "So what if it wasn't yours at the beginning? It's yours now. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be, that other life; her _real_ brother."

"I don't believe that," he told her morbidly.

She held her glass of wine out to him, leaning into the table to pass it across the tabletop. "Do yourself a favour. Chill out."


	6. Chapter 6

The wine hadn't been one of his brightest ideas, he thought. He felt nauseous, suddenly, and, if he was to allow them, he could feel that his hands would have begun shaking. Trying to take his mind off his increasingly ill feeling, he set about clearing the table, collecting the plates and cutlery and taking them to the sink for washing in the morning. "Do you think-"

He grabbed the edge of the sink, feeling suddenly dizzy, holding on to it to steady himself, and, after a moment, turned around slowly. "I could really go for a coffee, if that'd be possible," he said.

"You're leaving?" Emily asked, shutting the refrigerator door and turning to look at him. She'd been putting the leftovers away, he remembered. "It's the weekend. You don't have work in the morning, you know." She frowned, stepping away from the fridge and walking to the middle of the room. "Unless…"

He shook his head, then wished he hadn't. His head was pounding.

"I thought you might stay, that we might talk about… Kyle," she finished hesitantly.

He watched as she began to blur, his vision sliding out of focus for a moment, then reform as a person again; whole and redheaded. He laughed. "Absolutely not!"

"He's my brother and I know nothing about him!" Emily protested hotly.

"He _was_ your brother," he corrected. "He's not your brother any-" Somehow, Emily had moved from the middle of the room to where he was standing in some ridiculously short space of time without his noticing, and slapped him.

Hard.

"Don't get snooty," he told her, shaking off her anger in a big show of impassiveness. "Mirage is my brother, too, and what do I know about him? About as much as you know about Kyle, I'd imagine."

"_I want to know about him!_" Emily said, and suddenly he noticed the tears in her eyes, the way her voice sounded… vulnerable; overcome with sadness.

He put a hand up and touched her arm, feeling suddenly as though he needed to remain… amicable, that it would be best to let her down easily. If he could just think of a suitable lie, he'd be right, he thought, distracted, vaguely, by the softness of her hair.

She brushed his hand from her arm easily and turned away, crossing her arms over her chest as though cold, or hurt. Or alone.

It wasn't cold, and he'd hardly hurt her – well, physically he hadn't; perhaps she was suffering some sort of emotional pain, but what could he do about that? – possibly, he thought, he could do something about her feelings of loneliness.

For tonight, at least, he decided, he could do something right. It would make a change from routine, and it would be an interesting experiment, he thought. Just to see… if it worked.

He stepped closer and put his hands on her arms to turn her back to face him. He would say something nice, something reassuring, comforting. His sister would be proud of him, if she knew.

Emily allowed herself to be turned around slowly, her eyes shiny and threatening waterfalls. He lifted her chin with a hand so he could look into her eyes.

"I don't want to be alone," she whispered, just as he was about to tell her that it would all be alright.

Thoughts of all of the wonderful things he would say fled and he pulled her closer, into a gentle embrace. All she really needed was a hug, he told himself. How simple, and how silly he'd been not to see it before. Women were often that way; they appreciated those sorts of gestures, the small things, the horribly childish things. Hold my hand, hug me, feel my head.

It was a moment before he realised that her head was no longer rested on his chest, that she was looking up at him with those watery green eyes that weren't quite Brigitte's, but reminded her of him, all the same; reminded him of how she was dead, and how he'd tried to send Emily the same way.

For a moment, he wondered how things would have been different if he had succeeded, then the thought fled. If he had, then he'd have missed this, he'd have missed… his one good moment.

"I don't want to be alone," Emily breathed softly, in a voice he'd never heard her use before, because if he had… he'd certainly have remembered, he thought.

It made him want to…

"No," he said, without really knowing why, or what it meant. He looked down into her face, into those sad eyes, and realised he was having some trouble thinking. Which was… unusual, he thought distantly. "You won't be," he said, and it struck him that he didn't know quite _what_ she wouldn't be.

He stared at her.

It didn't matter that she was staring, too. It didn't matter that she wasn't saying anything. The quiet was actually peaceful. Comforting.

Out of the blue, she frowned.

What's wrong? he wanted to ask.

"There's something…" she began, and trailed away. She stepped back, out of his embrace.

_Don't_, he thought. _Don't…_

"Something missing," she concluded, with that frown still. She looked lost and confused, he wanted to offer her his hand and tell her not to worry, they'd find their way to wherever they were going, in time.

And then it struck him, what was missing. It was love. So he stepped a little bit closer, and kissed her.

* * *

He woke with a start, sure he'd been having some sort of nightmare, though he couldn't, for the life of him, remember what it might have been about, and found himself in an unfamiliar room – what had happened to the kitchen? – with a woman he hardly knew.

The nausea returned, in a whirlwind, and he struggled to hand it its marching orders.

What the fuck was he doing- And why did he want to reach over and touch her hair? Why did he want to stroke her arm? Whisper in her ear quietly that it would all be better in the morning?

He pushed that particular urge down into some deep, dark place, somewhere where daylight had never even been known to exist, and decided it was time – _high_ time – to go.

He didn't bother with a 'goodbye.' There was no point; it was clear that Emily was fast asleep.

* * *

The long drive back to Blue Cove was doing no favours for his head, which was determined to cause him grief, and he found himself reaching for the radio only to decide, no, he wasn't really in the mood for the radio.

He told himself that it wasn't Emily's voice that he really wanted to hear; he was just tired, that was all.

Finally, he reached over and just switched the damn radio on, anyway. Wasn't he just the gentleman?

He suppressed a laugh. If he was going to Hell, he thought, then, at least for one day, it would be deservedly so.

* * *

He couldn't think without that same old feeling returning. Do you have no feelings at all? Don't you feel just that tiny bit like a cheat?

He pulled over on the side of the road and got out, glad for the bitterly cold air, but not at all glad for the dawn, that was just beginning to show.

_Come on. Come on. Stop it. You promised her you'd grow up. Make up your mind. Have you decided to care or not?_

He leant against the side of the car, trying to think without feeling guilty. He didn't owe Jarod's sister anything. So he'd tried to kill her once, or maybe that was twice. And maybe, just maybe, he'd failed twice. So they'd… they'd hooked up – for a _night_ – what did that mean? What did a night mean, in the grand scheme of things?

_You broke your promise. You're a liar. You left her alone._

He stared at something in front of him that, suddenly, he couldn't quite see. He lurched forward, away from the car, and threw up.

"I don't want to be alone," Sue had told him once, with that look in her eye. _You did this to me, you're responsible; it was you. You always do the same thing, you never _change_._

Shaking, he reached up a trembling hand to brush away the tears that were suddenly running down his face.

What the fuck had Sue done? What had she done to Che Ling? And, now, she was trying to hurt _Emily_, too? She thought he was just going to allow that!

He tried to pull himself together, to stop crying, but all he could think was, _What did you do to my wife?_ All he could think was, _What did Che Ling ever do to you?_

And there it was, where it had been all along: of course, Che Ling had never done a thing to Sue – Sue and Che Ling had never even met – but he had. It was his fault. He'd hurt Sue. That was the sort of person that he was. Everything that he touched, he hurt.

He stayed on the ground and cried. _Please, please tell me you didn't hurt her_, he pleaded silently. _Please tell me you sent her away, you only sent her away! She couldn't have hurt you – she couldn't have hurt anyone!_

* * *

_Go home_, he told himself. _Just go home. You're no good for her, and she's no good for you. Whether you care or not, she'll be better off without you._


	7. Chapter 7

Emily was crying, when he opened the door and stepped inside. She'd come to the door to unlock it, but she'd remained inside, by the wall, looking at the floor or at nothing at all.

When Jarod saw her like that, he immediately rushed to put his arms around her, but she only shied away, whispering, "Don't."

"Emily, what happened?" he beseeched, tucking his anger away safely so as not to frighten her. How dare someone hurt his sister! Hadn't she been hurt enough already?

"I'm an idiot!" she sobbed. "I'm a real idiot!" As hard as he tried to catch her eye, she refused to look at him.

"No, don't say that," he told her. "You're not an idiot."

"I am," she whispered, and walked off, leaving him to follow her into the lounge. She sat down in front of the artificial gas log fire, which was running, and said no more.

Taking up beside her on the cheap rug patterned with puppy dogs, one of which Emily patted absently, he watched her carefully, trying to find some clue there. "You're going to have to tell me what happened, Emily. I don't hear Voices, I can't touch your hand and feel everything that I need to know."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, never taking her eyes from the puppy on the rug.

"What are you sorry for, Emily?" he asked softly.

She drew her arms tighter around her knees, drawing her thighs tighter to her chest. "I thought… I don't know what I thought! I wasn't thinking! I'm an idiot!" Her tears, which had started to lessen, began in torrents again.

He placed a hand on her back carefully. "What happened, Emily?"

Emily turned to meet his gaze suddenly, and it hurt him to see how upset she really was, how little she cared anymore who saw that she was crying buckets.

Some part of her must have cared, must have felt that crying was a private affair. When you were hurt, and nobody stepped in to comfort you, you quickly learned that tears were good for nothing else but humiliating you in front of other people. It couldn't be helped.

He told himself that she'd allowed him to see her tears because she trusted him, she trusted that he cared and only wanted the best for her; he was her big brother. She'd had Margaret to care, she'd had a mother to care. She would be fine, just as long as she told him what had happened.

She was a tough girl.

"I _know_ what he's like, so _why_ did I have to fall for that same old game? Why did I have to play _that girl_ who pretends there's nothing more to her than her capacity for foolish acts, the next more stupid than the last?" Emily cried.

Jarod rubbed her back, giving her her time. Eventually, she would come to the point where she was ready to talk.

"_I_ invited him over!" She put her hands up to her face. Her hands were shaking.

"Do you want me to call Mom?" he asked, shifting closer in case she changed her mind about wanting a hug.

"No!"

"Emily, please tell me what happened," he asked. "Did someone hurt you? Please… don't get mad at me for not seeing it just like _that_, I'm trying not to jump to the wrong conclusion here! It hurts me to see you like this, but I'm trying not to be so hurt because I know you're the one that's been hurt, not me."

Emily sniffed, shuffling over to him and resting her head on his shoulder. He couldn't say how glad he was that she'd made that small gesture. "I'm sorry," she told him quietly. "I don't know why… why I even wanted to… do that… with someone like that! I… I wanted to! He didn't force me, I just… I don't know…" She lifted her head off his shoulder to dig a couple of tissues out of her pocket and wipe her nose. "I don't know! I'd had some wine, but… he can't have put anything in the wine because he had some, too."

She sniffed, wiping her nose on the tissues she'd crunched up into a ball in her palm a moment ago, then took another tissue from her pocket. "I just… I just wanted someone around. I didn't think… I didn't mean to… What's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Jarod told her. "We all feel like that sometimes. We all need the company of someone else to feel human again. There's nothing wrong with that."

"But we…"

Jarod stroked her hair. "Is he married? Did he tell you he isn't interested in seeing you again?"

Emily brushed the tears off her cheeks. "You don't understand."

"What don't I understand, Emily?"

She closed her eyes, as though afraid to see Jarod's reaction, as though to do so might take it all back, make it all… unreal, just a story. "It was Lyle."

* * *

Jarod's first reaction was that they need to go – she needed to go – so he started collecting up all the cushions, then the books, then he stopped and sat down on the couch. There was no way they could take all of this; they'd just have to leave it.

Emily came and sat next to him. "I don't think… he wants to take me back to the Center," she said, finally. "I don't even know if he knows… why…"

"What are you talking about?"

"I think there's something else happening that I don't know about, something that's important to all of this," Emily said.

"Some… some sort of plan, is that what you're getting at? Another one of Raines's clever schemes?"

Emily shook her head a little. "I don't know."

"You think Lyle might be going behind Raines's back? That he might have come up with a scheme of his own! Because we all know how those end! He isn't right, Emily. He can't even… think straight, anymore. It's all jumbled up in there, beyond anything that you can even imagine. Don't you see, though he's completely oblivious to the fact, he can't even trust himself! In fact, he's the last person he can trust! A forgiving person would end him and call it a quits. But I can't do that, Emily, I can't do that because I believe that all of those other people that he's hurt, they'd want justice. They wouldn't want him to get off lightly, easily." He fell silent for a long moment.

"Do you think he might want another Pretender?" he asked, finally.

"His son made him a friendship bracelet. He was wearing it. I said it made him look like he'd gone royally 'round the bend."

Jarod stared at her.

"There's something wrong with me, Jarod," she told him, "I know there is. I don't know how long it's been wrong, inside me, but I know it is. There's something wrong with me. Something's not right."

_Or it is_, Jarod thought. _For the first time in a long, long time, it is._ The thought sent shivers down his back. Suddenly, he was very, very afraid. He was tempted to say something, yet he couldn't bring himself to say anything in case that made it real.

It wasn't as though he'd ever met his own Convergence partner, he reminded himself, it could still be a lie; just another lie. _Except you know it isn't_, he told himself silently. _You know that it's real._

Oh, yes, he knew that it was real. Dangerously real.

"I don't believe that," he told her. "I don't believe there's anything wrong with you. You're just the way you were meant to be, just the way you were when you were born. You're perfect, Emily. As perfect as any of us can be."

And then Emily laughed, and he _knew_; as much as it killed him, he knew.

It was true.

Sinister wasn't just a word. It never had been.


	8. Chapter 8

It was four o'clock in the morning, and _far_ too early for Jarod to be landing shit like that on her, but Parker wasn't about to lose it over something that was her 'twin's' problem – who she didn't really believe to be her twin – so she just said, "What am I going to do about it, Jarod? Kill Someone? That'd really do your sister a lot of good, if what they say about Convergence is serious, wouldn't it?"

"I think it is," Jarod replied. "What they say. I think it's serious. We had… Well, you remember Raines going on about us having Residual Convergence to Sydney… which, mind you, it might be the incredibly early hour, but I don't think I can even recall why he brought it up with Sydney."

Parker grinned, shaking her head. "For a Pretender, you seem to forget a lot of things."

"You don't know any more than I do, do you?" Jarod accused, but with a note of amusement in his voice.

Parker laughed. "Oh, my goodness, I feel ill! I think it's sympathy pain!"

"For your brother?"

Parker coughed. "For you, you idiot! And… that sister of yours… I don't do sympathy pain for sociopaths! So, are you looking forward to babies, or what?"

"Now I feel ill."

"Oh, I'm glad to share it! You know what they say, 'sharing is caring!'"

"You're horrible."

She sighed heavily. "I'm just imagining how happy this is going to make Lyle. Speaking of which, you have told your sister, haven't you?"

"I'm working on it."

"Jarod! She needs to know! I don't care about Psycho Boy, but tell your Goddamn sister already."

"You tell me how, exactly, and I'll be there, feeding the masses more lies!"

"Don't be so melodramatic! It's not catching! It's not going to be Ethan next, or Gemini." She snickered. "Or your Mom and Dad."

"Don't! Parker!"

"I'm just saying. It's not some sickness; not like that, anyway. Until you actually meet your Convergence partner, you're fine. When you do, start praying! And learn some other languages; it can't help to pray in those, too! Convergence is a very sticky glue, and the crappiest thing of all is that it's not, contrary to popular belief, true love; it's just that fucked up little friend joyriding in our DNA!"

"You don't have to have the anomaly to have Convergence, Miss Parker."

Parker rolled her eyes. "No, not both of the people in the partnership, but one of them does have to have it, yes!"

"So how does that say to you that the anomaly is a determiner in the choice of pairs pertaining to a person's Convergence, exactly?"

"Ssst! I know that stupid, _crappy_ anomaly has something to do with it! If there's a door marked 'sinister,' you know what'll be behind it!"

Jarod sighed. "Do you think your brother knows?"

"Who knows?"

He sighed again. Sometimes, asking Parker her opinion was like asking a brick wall the movie it would most like to catch at the cinema some time.

"On the other hand, I hope he has fun finding out – if he doesn't already know!" Parker enthused.

"What?"

Parker rolled her eyes. "That's not what I mean! You… people! You know what I mean. Don't you think he's going to find it strange that he's suddenly feeling all… whatever he's feeling all… about someone who isn't Asian, or me? That's just – _so_ not sticking with the MO! _Also_, not to rain on your kid sister's parade _excessively_, but cut a girl some slack – if it does happen, I reckon I deserve to be able to actually look forward to that little _creep_ not obsessing over me! He'll just be obsessing over your sister, and hopefully not too many Asian girls in his sick, twisted idea of revenge… because – _Wow! Yeah!_ – it must be _Midori_ choosing whom has Convergence with whom. Those are some spooky superpowers! Have you seen the books she reads? Suffice it to say, she's a bit of romance junkie! Need I remind you, I _can_ read Japanese, if it's slipped your mind, of late, given recent… developments."

"Midori?"

"It's like you've never just rung Reception to shamelessly flirt with the cute, Asian desk girl! Honestly! Is there something wrong with you?"

"Have _you_ rung Reception just so that you could shamelessly flirt with the cute, Asian desk girl?" Jarod asked.

"If I was Raines, I would have! I'll give him 'not enough vacation'! Ever heard of chocolates and flowers, pops! You could have a whole entourage of… clandestine lovers!"

"Why are you _telling me_ this?" Jarod asked suddenly. "I don't want to know!"

"Oh, shut up! If he did, then maybe Ethan and I would have a _real_ sibling to look forward to one of these days! And not that fake, little freak! Anyway, she's American, or American-Asian. She was born here, the same as me and you. Maybe that's why Lyle's not really into her. She doesn't have the right accent. Talk about a spoilt brat!"

"Do you think so?"

"No, it's really because she's Lucy's cousin, I'd say. And you've heard the rumours."

"No, I haven't heard the rumours; at least, not these particular rumours. What are the rumours?"

"Raines is Lucy's father. Which, yes, you've already guessed it, would make Lucy our half sister. And half siblings are just plain… dangerous!"

"Where did you hear this?" Jarod asked doubtfully.

"I didn't _hear_ it, I read it. In the toilets on SL-5."

"You honestly take for serious things you read on some toilet door somewhere, Miss Parker? Which toilet? The men's, or the women's?"

"Well, I had to be sure Sydney wasn't meeting one of his numerous, secret _women friends_ in the toilet on company time, so it wasn't technically… without reason…" She laughed. "What do you think, Jarod?" She waved her hand about. "Somehow, I still feel… ill!"

"Yes, I do, too."

"I've had the most wonderful idea, suddenly!"

"Wonderful!"

"You should totally sic some woman onto Raines. You know, like Brigitte and Daddy. He can preach his rubbish to her all day, instead of _me_! And make out with my 'brother' in a broom closet behind Raines's back. I'm liking this idea already. What are you waiting for, then? Chop, chop!" She sighed. "We're supposed to have family values, not… you know, my floozy brother! Psycho, murdering loony! If that's all we had wanted, we'd have been better off with Alex! At least he'd had some intelligence to him, when correctly prompted. The only thing Lyle has when you want him to have anything – is _idiocy and lunacy_!"

"That's debateable," Jarod replied. "I'm not sure Alex would have had a bar of the whole promiscuous thing. Seems a little… savage, don't you think?"

Parker snorted. "I miss that boy. Really, I do."

"I'm sure, Miss Parker."

"Well, no, not really, but, um- Just, just tell her. Really. Do. It's cruel and unusual punishment, any other way. That's perfectly fine for Lyle, but not… your sister, Jarod. She's been through enough without that as an added bonus, and let's not forget… she's going to have to put up with having Convergence with that loony or kill herself, of which I would vastly prefer the former. I'm not trying to take your family away from you, Jarod. It's you I'm interested in; nobody else. As for Lyle, I can't say the same for him, however. That is one fucked up kid, how ever you look at it, and I should know because, joy of joys, he's _my_ twin, so goes the talk!

"Look, she's put up with a lot of crap in the past, Jarod, give the kid some credit; she's got a stronger constitution than you'd think."

"That's what you think, until one day it goes _Snap!_ And she goes… loopy… like _him_… or Kyle! I don't- I don't want that, Miss Parker."

"I don't want that, either, Jarod, but there's not much we can do, at this point. If you have any suggestions, I'd be more than happy to take them."

"I don't."

"Well then. Goodnight, or… good morning. I believe this is your cue – hang up now, before I do and ruin your reputation for worst phone etiquette, forever!" She put her phone down; Jarod had hung up speedily.

_How I'm looking forward to the coming weeks!_ she thought sarcastically.

* * *

Jarod sighed and returned his cell phone to the nightstand beside his bed. He was going to have fun sleeping now with the prospect of explaining Convergence to Emily in the morning, he thought. Real fun!

And then, what if he had to explain it to rest of the family, too? Somehow, he had a feeling that he would be hoping like mad that that never happened.


	9. Chapter 9

On Sunday, Parker decided to swing by her brother's place to see how he was going, annoy him about… well, she'd have to think about it on the way over. When she got there, though, nothing was doing, and one of the neighbours came out to tell her that, more than likely, he wasn't in; his car wasn't in the parking area assigned for residents of the townhouses, after all.

Once the neighbour had gone back inside, Parker turned around and had a look at the cars parked in the residential parking spaces and decided that, no, her brother's car wasn't there. She had a walk along the street, just to be sure, but it wasn't anywhere she could see.

She walked back to her car, wondering who exactly chose to live next to a _park_ – it wasn't as though he was looking to hook up with some single soccer mom, now, was it? – and in a _rented_ townhouse, when they could easily have bought a house somewhere quiet and très, très expensive. That sort of thing didn't make sense to her. Either you were upper class, or you weren't. You didn't play by halves.

_Well, maybe he's off somewhere_, she thought, _up to his usual tricks_, and wished someone would just… really, someone just take care of the loony son-of-a-bitch, already.

_Sst! Quiet, you_, she told herself. _You better stop thinking like that now; Jarod wouldn't be very pleased if he heard you advocating violence against his sister's Convergence partner._

_If they do really have Convergence_, she thought. _Honestly, where does Jarod get these ideas?_

Still, she hoped it _was_ just Jarod's overactive imagination. She wouldn't wish that on anyone, least of all someone like Jarod's sister.

Pulling her car door closed after her, she pulled away from the townhouses and sighed. She'd check out the Center; maybe he was at work. It was the weekend, so it was highly unlikely, but unlikelier things had happened.

* * *

Taking a space in the parking lot out front, she noticed her brother's car parked next to Cox's – that workaholic, little creep! – and supposed he might, just might be in.

Midori told her that he'd come in last night, he'd mentioned something about the Archives, and she supposed he'd stayed to find whatever it was he'd been looking for there. "I could call his office," she added, and Parker nodded briefly. That would be helpful.

Midori grabbed the phone on her desk and punched in a number, glancing at her computer screen idly whilst she waited for the phone to pick up. After a dozen or so rings to no avail, she put the phone down again.

Both she and Parker knew that nobody would be down in Archives to answer the phone there if Lyle wasn't; once every three months, someone might come out for a week for that specific purpose, but that was it. The only reason Lyle would have been able to get into the Archives was because he had the proper clearance level, which neither she nor Parker had.

_Sydney does_, Parker thought to herself, without giving anything away to Midori.

"The Director may be in," Midori suggested. "I could give him a call and ask if it would be possible for him to accompany you down to the Archives, Miss Parker."

Parker shook her head. (Coming from Midori, a friend of Cox, she knew who she meant when she said Director.) She didn't feel like involving Raines in this, in fact, she was sure that would be a very, very stupid thing to do. "No, I think I'll just go down to Tech Space and have a look and see if he's not there, thank you, Midori."

"Okay," Midori agreed. "Oh, um, Lucy says 'hi'!"

"Sure!" Parker chimed in her best _I _do_ have girl friends, thank you, Sydney, very much_ voice. "How is she, these days, anyway?"

The brightness in Midori's expression faded a little. "She's taken up smoking."

"That's no good."

"No."

"But apart from that?"

"Apart from that, she's the same as ever. But- Bobbi's really upset about the smoking thing, you know, and…" She sighed.

"Bobby?"

"Lucy's daughter, yeah. She thinks maybe it's something she did, you know, something… that's been stressing on Lucy's nerves. I told her it's just… a thing, and that it'll pass, but she's not happier to hear it. I think she's worried about… Lucy getting sick. People do all the time, from… smoking, and things like that. But," she shrugged, "Lucy doesn't want to give it up. She says… it helps. In the next breath, she's telling me, 'I'll give it up when I meet a man, M.' What am I supposed to… to do? I can't… grab her and physically stop her! I can't… do anything." She shook her head. "But I don't want to lose her. I don't want to lose her, either!"

Parker nodded, not quite sure why Midori was telling her all this, but figuring that running off wouldn't be a good look, so she just stood there, listening, trying not to look like a complete fool, trying not to look completely lost. "No, she's your cousin. I… If I had cousins, I'd feel exactly the same way that you do. I wouldn't want to… to have them go. Not like that…" She trailed away, not sure what to say after that.

Midori smiled at her sadly. "Thanks for listening, Missy."

Resisting the edge to shoot the younger woman a dirty look at the name she'd just called her, Parker nodded. "Anytime," she replied, and turned and made her way in the direction of the elevators. God, she was so pleased that was over!

The muzak in the elevator grated on her nerves, but she reminded herself that she'd probably need all of her calm to talk to her brother when she finally caught up with him, so she pushed aside her annoyance at the muzak as though it was nothing really of consequence, and told herself she felt better already.

* * *

On SL-5, Tech Space was deserted. Aside from Cox, who was sipping a coffee at one of the coffee tables in Heathrow Lounge, there was no one about.

"You've not happened to see my brother, by any chance, have you?" she asked, strolling over and taking a better look around. Oh, well, there were one or two techs hiding out in their cubicles, as usual, but not many.

"No, ah-" Cox frowned, thinking something over. "I think I remember Persephone saying he'd gone down to see Reagan… yesterday, something like that."

"They're out of vanilla syrup, hey," Parker replied, noticing that she'd not been able to pick up on the vanilla smell that usually accompanied anything to do with Cox and coffee.

"Yes. Just my luck!" He nodded. "Diana-"

"I think I'll, ah, I'll go down and… and find Persephone, then," Parker decided in exaggerated cheerfulness.

"Yes, yes. You do… that," Cox agreed.

Parker hurried out of Tech Space, wondering why on Earth Cox would feel compelled to even _mention_ Diana in front of her. The woman was nothing more than a figment of his imagination, but still. Did he think she might have tried to… hit on him, otherwise?

Pushing aside that unpleasant image, Parker sighed and stalked back to the elevators. _Me and you, muzak, baby_, she thought._ Best buds in Hell._

* * *

Persephone was doing something in her office, which looked much more like the victim of a hurricane than any office Parker had seen, and rushed over to usher her in and snap the door shut again after her, indicating that she take a seat, in the meantime.

Parker frowned, noting that the seats all seemed to be already taken… full of books or paperwork, or some other thing.

"Uhg!" Persephone cried, when she noticed what Parker had noticed just moments before. "What is going on around here?"

"I see that you're doing a little spring cleaning," Parker said, for lack of anything else to really say.

"No, um… yes, but… It's not spring! I'm just…" She put a hand up and made a gesture that may have been a growly claw gesture, minus the growl, or may have not. "Sorting… Where-? Where is my phone?"

Parker looked around her, but she couldn't see a phone anywhere.

"Awww!" Persephone whined, as though maybe she'd just been shot, and turned suddenly to smile at Parker in a very scary, very overbright way. "Ah, yes, you- Well, here I am! Fire away! Questions, questions, questions! Don't you just love it!"

"Midori said something about Lyle coming to see Reagan yesterday," she said, wondering vaguely if Persephone was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Persephone glanced around her office suspiciously. "Yes, I seem to recall that, too." She narrowed her eyes, then snapped her gaze back to Parker's face. She hurried off into the hurricane ravaged recesses of her office, and after trying every drawer in her desk and subsequently slamming it again, she returned with a key card. "Here you go, honey! Knock yourself out! And if that boy has taken my phone, knock him out, too!"

Taking the card, Parker waited for her to laugh, but she didn't, so she nodded and turned to leave the office. What was going on with everyone today?

_Not enough vacation_, she thought, and felt a sudden overwhelming urge to murder Raines with the key card Persephone had just given her.

* * *

Letting herself into Reagan's room, she spotted her brother and Reagan, and sighed, making her way over to the bed and stopping so that she didn't step on the book lying on the floor.

Apparently, he'd been reading Reagan a book, she thought, and wondered if Reagan had even had even the faintest idea about what; the book was in German.

Then she noticed that her brother was wearing something horrible and colourful on his wrist, something very similar to the something Reagan was wearing on his, and thought, _Will you look at that? Jarod actually gets his facts straight, for once._

She wasn't being fair, but it had just occurred to her that she was a little bit jealous; Reagan hadn't made her a friendship bracelet, why not?

_It's probably because you visit him so often, Parker_, she told herself, and felt suddenly down. She sat down on the edge of the bed. _Yeah, probably._ She was sure it was that, now that she thought about it. When had the last time been? Christmas, New Year's, her birthday?

Suppressing a sigh, she reached over to shake her brother's arm. "Have you talked to Lucy recently about her latest addiction?"

"What?" Lyle asked sleepily, sitting up slowly and frowning at her. Just for a second, he stared at her as though she was someone very, very scary, and then the look was gone, replaced by another frown. He shook his head. "Lucy and what? What did you say? I got the Lucy part but that's all."

"Smoking," Parker reiterated. "Have you talked to her about her smoking?"

"No, she doesn't want to talk about it. I can't force her, can I? And-" He turned away for a moment to pull the blanket back over Reagan. "She just changes the topic."

Parker thought he might say something like, 'Why are you so interested, suddenly?' but he didn't. He just stood up, picked the book up from the floor, and walked over to a shelf to put it away.

"Did you come here to see me or… or Reagan?"

Parker shot him a contemptuous look.

"Hey, did you-? Sydney…"

"What about Sydney?" she asked.

"He has a conference coming up that he's been invited to speak at, is that… is that right?"

Parker shook her head. "I don't know. This is news to me."

"I think so," Lyle said, still frowning. "So… so would you be interested in going with him?"

"Trying to get me out of town, Lyle?" she asked.

He gave her an irritated look.

"Hmm?"

"I thought… I might go, too."

"Oh, really?"

"Have you ever… been to any of the conferences that Sydney, that he was speaking at?"

"Not really."

"I thought it could be nice. A… a change, you… know."

She tossed her head. "Do whatever you want, I'm certainly not standing in your way. If you've your heart set on winning Sydney's… affection, whatever, then be my guest."

"I don't… I don't have my heart set on winning Sydney's affection," Lyle replied, slightly annoyed, but obviously not wanting to raise his voice in case he woke Reagan up.

"Of course not," she replied. "I'd prefer if we talked in private, actually. And, yes, I did come here to see you. Drop the parenty-parenty act, whilst you're about it; I'm starting to feel nauseous!"

She stood up and walked to the door, swiping the key card quickly and stalking out of the room. He could catch her up, she wasn't waiting around as though she had nothing better to do with her day.


	10. Chapter 10

"I don't- Are you for real? I don't get it. If it's a joke, it's not a very funny one, at all."

"No, it's not a joke," Jarod told his sister. "It's for real."

She shook her head. "I don't believe it. It just… sounds stupid."

"Even so, Convergence is real, Emily. It does happen. Look, I'm not one hundred percent sure that that's what's happening here, but I'm just letting you in on my thoughts. I hope – I really, really sincerely hope! – that I am wrong. You have no idea! More than anything, I hope that it's not… It's not true. But I have a really bad feeling that it is, that it might just be."

Emily shook her head and stood up from the sofa where they'd been sitting together throughout Jarod's explanation of Convergence, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "If it's just… an attraction, like you said, then I'll just ignore it. That's what I'll do. From now on, I'll just ignore it."

Jarod stared at her. "Emily, you can't just ignore it," he told her sadly. "If you ignore it, then who knows what might happen!"

"Why not?" she shot angrily, suddenly rounding on him. "Why the fuck not?"

"I don't know. I _wish_ that I did. All I know is, that's just how it is."

She laughed. "Oh, oh and I'm going to take your word for it – because you've never _ever_ had anything this fucked up happen to you, have you?" she shouted. She shook her head. "You're… I don't… I don't even know why I'm listening to this fucking… Center propaganda coming out of your mouth!"

Jarod got to his feet, upset now, himself. "It's not Center propaganda, Emily," he told her, fighting to keep the volume down. "I know it's real because I've had Residual Convergence with Miss Parker! Don't- Don't ever accuse me of spewing their propaganda, Em! Don't! Just because, oh, you're a journalist, you think you know something about what Kyle and I went through in there! You know _nothing_!" Ignoring the look of hurt that had suddenly sprung into his sister's eyes, he glared at her and growled, "You don't know anything!"

Emily stared at the space where he'd been standing a moment ago, unable to move.

On his way out of the lounge room, he slammed the door, making Emily jump.

Slowly, she sunk back down onto the couch. She didn't make a big deal of it, maybe, even, it just didn't want to work that way, but she started crying, tears sliding soundlessly down her face. Why did they have to argue? Why did this have to happen to her? She didn't want it! What had she ever done wrong?

* * *

"You said you wanted to talk," Lyle reminded her, walking over to the counter and arranging the bottles and jars there by contents and size.

She made a face, and tossed her head. "That's right."

"I don't hear you saying a lot, sis."

"Well, not here! I said 'in private,' didn't I!"

He looked around Heathrow Lounge pointedly, and Parker noticed that even the techs had left. They'd probably all taken a break at the same time; maybe they'd gone up to the dining hall, or they'd gone outside to have a cigarette.

She walked over and grabbed a mug from the rows of clean mugs and found a teaspoon to make herself an instant coffee, frowning at Lyle who had moved on to arranging the mugs by colour. "Would you stop that, it's really fucking annoying!"

"Oh, that's what you wanted to talk to me about?" he challenged. "My annoyingness?"

She shook her head. "No, unfortunately it isn't!" she snapped. "I don't like you spending so much time with Reagan, that's what I wanted to talk to you about! You're a bad influence, even if you're not… one in front of him."

"I'm a bad influence?" Lyle replied, but more so as though confused than that he was insinuating that he wasn't the only one.

"He's an Empath!" she growled.

"Yeah, so what? I'm an adult. I can-"

"You _think_ you can!" she snapped. "But in reality, you can't block _squat_! You're _not_ a Perceptive!"

He shook his head. "He's my son, not yours! Get over it."

"Fuck you, too!" she growled, and stormed out of Tech Space, leaving her coffee behind.

"Great," Lyle remarked to himself, "aren't we just the little peacemaker today? You fucking idiot! You're always doing the wrong thing, or saying the wrong thing! It's starting to get really old, really fast! And, really, it's not on; not for someone of your age, at le-"

A tech, returning from break, gave him a funny look on his way past.

Lyle shook his head and walked out. The guy was probably right, he shouldn't have been talking to himself. Everyone always said, it was the first sign of madness. Wasn't it his second greatest ambition never to let on to anyone that he was, in fact, completely cracked?

_No, who would ever guess, Lyle?_ he thought sarcastically, grabbing his cell phone to answer it when it rung. "What?"

"I thought that was your sister's line," Porter replied.

"So sue me! What do you want?"

"You are one cheery puppy today, B," Porter told him.

"Oh, aren't I?"

"To cut to the chase, I have good news."

"What?"

Porter sighed. _Such enthusiasm_, he thought. "Okay, so I got in…"

"I don't want to know about the illegal shit you've been doing, Jimmy!"

"Jesus, Bobby! I'm talking about law school. Illegal shit's so far off my résumé that it's on the other side of Mars, already, you know that."

"I don't know any such thing, Jimmy."

"What are you so pissed off about?"

"I'm not."

"Yes you are!"

"Well, shut up! I won't be… in a minute."

"Did your girlfriend dump you?"

"What girlfriend, Jimmy?"

"See, see! You should get a girlfriend!"

"What for?"

"Skip the girlfriend, you need shock therapy."

Lyle frowned. "Why are you even telling me this? Does it look like I could care less?"

"Surprisingly, I'm not psychic. How should I know what you look like, or not?"

"Take an educated guess, Jimmy!"

"Alright, how's this for a scenario? We go out later and actually meet some _real_ people, who don't just exist in Ghost World, or whatever!"

"Or we don't! _You_ do! Go on your own, Jimmy. I don't want to meet anyone; humans are the enemy."

Porter snorted. "Whatever, man. Rock out!"

"Go hug a tree!" Lyle snapped, and hung up on him. He put his phone away and decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator. "Good for you," he muttered. "Let's try not to end up decomposing in the ground this time, huh!"

* * *

His phone started ringing again, thoroughly making him wish he'd just turned the stupid thing off, and he sat down on the step before answering. Caller ID didn't recognise the number, so he decided that he should answer without his sister's famous catchcry for conversation starters. "Lyle."

"It's Emily."

"Oh really? Let me just drop my phone down this nice, deep stairwell here and hope it meets a fitting end," he joked darkly. "What the fuck do you want?"

"I thought… I thought we could talk!" Emily replied hotly.

He made a face. Sure, talk! "Don't! Don't start that again!" he told her, severely unimpressed.

"What's Convergence?" she brought up, suddenly. "I want- Tell me about it!"

"Sure, hon, anything to make you happy. What the fuck would I know about that T-Corp shit? Where are you even getting this bullshit from, in the first place?"

"Your mother told me," Emily replied in a sudden firm, defensive tone.

Lyle laughed. "Yeah, yeah, Cat told you! Cat's dead, hon! How the fuck is she going to tell you anything? Are you losing the plot, babe? Is that it; you're going 'round the bend like big brother Kyle."

"Asshole!" Emily scowled.

"Don't say that! I haven't even got started yet, babe."

"She told me!" Emily hissed. "I have the Voices!"

"You ain't got nothin' but some cute girly curves and a rather brainless head on your shoulders, girl, trust me! I would know the type, don't you think? If you're hearin' voices, then you best ought be seein' someone 'bout it directly."

"Catherine did speak to me, you lunatic!"

"Ouch! That really hurt my feelin's, babe. Or not! Well, hit me! Wha' did Cat say to you?"

"Just that we both have Convergence. That's all she said. She didn't say what it was, or anything else."

Lyle shook his head. "That babe was all kinds o' deceitful, love. Personally, I wouldn't be inclined to trust a word that came out of her mouth, or didn't. Seeing as how she's _dead_! And just so you know, we _don't_ have Convergence, sweet pea! And it's ridiculous to even suggest so!"

"Why is it ridiculous?"

"That's not how it works; you don't get Convergence with people you're related to."

"We're not related," Emily told him. "I'm related to Ethan, and so are you; but _we_ are not related to each other."

"And you know that for a fact, do you, sweet pea?"

"If we were related, I would have _wasted_ you already!" she hissed.

"Cos last time worked out so well in your favour, hmm?"

"Last time I didn't know you were going to throw me out of a window!" she snapped.

"Well I certainly wasn't there to swap cupcake recipes, if that's what you were thinkin', hon! So sorry to disappoint! You've got to really start using your nous."

She snorted. "And you're an expert on common sense, I suppose!"

"We don't have Convergence," he told her, suddenly serious.

With a fake smile that was evident in her voice, she replied, "Then I guess you must have put something in my drink, after all. You must have done it when I wasn't looking."

"Because that makes for really fun sex! Take it from me, it's completely overrated!"

"Thank you for that mental image!" Emily replied, with distaste.

"That's what I'm here for!" he enthused.

"And I wasn't talking about whatever you were talking about," she told him.

"I don't like… drugs! They're not fun, they're expensive, and they invariably stab you right back in the back whenever someone winds up dead and the very special guest star of _an autopsy_! What the fuck, girl! I'm crazy, but not an idiot! What is it with you? At every turn, there's another insult! Anyone would think you don't like me."

"Oh, how sad!"

"It is sad, actually."

"I'm really getting that vibe," Emily agreed, sending him up.

"I have to…" he stood up, "go somewhere."

"What?"

"My apologies, I was just talking to myself. Wow, kinda crazy, huh? My sister thinks that I'm a bad influence on our little brother – she's a puppy dog, really – she says I should stay away from him. You don't, you don't think I'm a bad influence, do you?"

"Not in the least," Emily replied earnestly, obviously sarcastically.

"Such a darling, you are! You wouldn't be interested, at all, in going out for a coffee somewhere so that we might talk about this face-to-face, like real people, would you?"

"No!"

"Anything's worth a try once, I suppose."

"You just-"

"Yeah! I'm totally, totally in love with you! Are you feeling the vibe! Someone's thinking about you! Hang on, isn't something missing here?"

"You idiot!"

"You're scared! That's it, isn't it? You're _really_ scared! You've totally bought this Convergence rubbish, and you're scared."

"I am not scared," Emily told him seriously.

"Then why can't we go out for _one_ coffee?"

"Because I don't like you!"

"I don't like you, either."

"Comforting to know, yet, surprisingly _not_! We're not going out. Anywhere. Together. For a coffee. Or anything else. It's just never happening."

"If we don't, I guarantee you, you'll really, really regret it later on!" Lyle told her. "See, Convergence is a funny thing. It doesn't have to be sexual, but physical proximity is kinda one of those things it just likes. All I'm suggesting is that we hang out, but you know what it's going to be suggesting if we don't?"

"_It's_ not going to be suggesting _anything_ because _it's_ not _alive_!" Emily told him, in an _Ooh, scary monsters, I'm so scared – not!_ voice.

"No, you're right. It isn't. But we are. And it just so happens that it knows how we- well, I shouldn't say how we think, because we try to pretend that we're not like that, that we're… civilised! But it knows what we're like; what we're really like. And, really, I have to say, you mightn't be my type, but you are a cute girl, nonetheless, and if it's a choice of something or nothing, come on, which do you think I'm going to seriously choose?"

"Get out of town! That might be how you think, but that's not how I think!" Emily replied.

"That's how we _all_ think! We're- What's the word for it? Communal animals? Something, something like that, I think. And really, if you think about it, it sucks being on your own. When you're on your own, you don't get to have power over someone else, and that is just… intolerable for some of us. We like having power over others. Otherwise, you tell me, what's the point of being alive?"

"You can feel powerful for other reasons," Emily told him, as though she found everything he'd just said pathetic and laughable. "For example, you can be a good person, and you can feel good about that; you can feel empowered by that."

"Don't get me started on empowerment!" he told her. "Any time anyone even mentions it, I just think _bondage_, _kinky sex_, the sorts of things my sister thinks I take relish in corrupting impressionable people's minds with. Which, mind you, is completely untrue! That's not me at all!"

"I'm getting that," Emily replied.

"What? You women are so picky. Lighten up, will you! Just because it's different doesn't mean it's evil or of extraterrestrial origin. Well, um, yes, moving on… Why not? Just give me one good reason, that's all. One good reason! I need someone around who's sane, don't you see! We could be good for each other. Or… at least you could be good for me! I promise, I won't even mention aliens, or anything kinky!"

"I don't trust you," Emily replied simply.

"I don't have mind powers, you know. Not that I would be complaining if I _did_, mind you, but I don't. Sadly. We can go out, somewhere where there's lot of prudish people who'll give us we-know-you're-up-to-something-morally-questionable frowns if we so much as hug or hold hands; we could have a great time together. What do you say, hon?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Your sister's right. You are a bad influence."

He laughed. "Come on, you're an adult!"

"It doesn't matter. What would we even talk about?"

"We don't have to talk. We can just… drink coffee… quietly, without talking. But we don't have to talk, not at all!"

"Oh, right, and what if you're taken with a sudden urge to throw me out of a window, or under a bus? Or take me back to the Center to torture me for information on the whereabouts of my brother?"

"I'll just have to control that urge. I can be good, for a couple of hours."

"For a couple of hours," Emily repeated.

"But we don't… we only have to go out for a- Half an hour, what about that?"

"I don't like it."

"Come on, give a little. The ability to negotiate is one of the things that make us human."

Emily laughed.

"I'm sure someone once said something like that. So what do you say? What am I going to do with the rest of the day, if you say 'no'? I'll have nothing to do. Isn't that sad?"

"No."

"I was really trying hard, too!"

"Half an hour. That's it. No more! And this doesn't mean it's going to be a regular occurrence."

"Absolutely not, love."

"And don't call me 'love.'"

"My sincerest apologies."

"Shut up! Ring me when you get in, and _don't_ come to my house!" With that, she hung up.

Lyle smiled, and turned around and began walking back up the stairs to the ground floor. It was a good thing Emily had rung him and not the other way around, he thought. He'd not have liked the looks of that phone bill. Of course, given that Jarod was her brother, she mightn't even end up paying for it herself, he supposed. Wouldn't that be nice?

Not that it made up for the very, very sucky life he imagined she'd had. Anyone who thought people could feel empowered by doing good things can't have had much life experience; the only thing that you got by doing good things was a bullet in the head, he thought; much like Catherine.

_But, of course, whilst the going was good, I'm sure you felt like such a _good_ person, mum. I'm sure that made up for everything shitty you ever had to go through, and everything shitty that we had to go through after you died. I completely understand; it wasn't just enough to be our mother. Being a mum can't be all that hard, after all, look at all the mothers in the world. It's just not… all that exciting, not all that empowering. It was like being dead already, but it was worse because you weren't, because you were alive but you felt… so dead. I understand. I know how you feel, contrary to what you might think. I feel like that, too, most of the time. You're still my mum, and seeing as you're dead, I forgive you. But I'm a little bit sad. Don't you see, we could have been such great friends! I'm sure you would have understood me, mum. _You_ would have._

He laughed. Lawyer Boy was right, he really needed to get out and talk to someone.


	11. Chapter 11

He left a message on Porter's Voicemail service – "I'm sorry, I've been in a bad mood lately. No one's fault, only my own. I shouldn't have been so abrasive with you; it was uncalled for. Call me back, when you have some time, or when… when you feel like it. Bye." – and snapped his cell phone shut, then winced. He'd forgotten to congratulate him on getting into law school.

Sighing, he put his phone away and decided to just wait for Emily to show, if she was planning on showing at all. If Porter rang back, he'd let him know then.

He watched a group of teenaged girls filing past – five or six of them – laughing and holding drinks from one of those fast food places that lined the food court, and smiled.

Making a face, one of the girls stuck her finger up at him as though to say, 'Smile at someone else, creep!'

The sixth girl grabbed the other girl's arm and shot her a wide-eyed stare. "I beg your pardon, that's my uncle!" she cried.

Lyle stood up quickly. "Bobbi?"

Forcing a smile onto her face, Bobbi spun around. "Hey, you! These are my friends!" She didn't look at said friends as she chimed all of this, instead she dropped her friend's arm and strode up to him.

"They're a few-"

"Shut up!" Bobbi snapped, but not meanly. "Older than me, I know! But they're my friends. Don't… don't ruin my one chance at having _normal_ friends, okay! I'll kick your butt!"

Bobbi was twelve, her friends were all fifteen or sixteen. Lyle noticed that they'd gone on ahead without her.

"What are you doing here?" Bobbi cried suddenly.

"Actually, I was waiting for someone."

"My mom!"

"No."

Bobbi sighed, and blinked a few times. "Did you… talk to her yet?"

"No, I didn't know that you wanted me to. What would you like me to bring up with her?"

Bobbi shook her head. "Didn't you get my email?"

"My email account's been a bit… temperamental of late," he replied, without adding, 'Thank you, Jarod.' "You know I'd prefer it if you rang."

"Blah, blah, blah! You're not my _dad_!"

"Even so."

She smacked his arm lightly and whipped around, "Gotta fly!" Then she was off, in search of her friends.

He sighed, and turned around to sit back down, then turned back again. She was too far away to call out to, so he decided he'd just walk over there.

When she saw him walking over, she pretended not to, like maybe he wasn't there at all, until he got closer, and she lurched away from one of her friends, laughing and saying, "Uncles!"

"What?" she snapped, looking annoyed the way teenagers did so well.

"That girl… the one with the hoop earrings…"

"What about her?" Bobbi snapped, shooting him a _Don't look at her, Dumbo!_ glare.

"She isn't well, Bobbi."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she's been feeling real down lately, but…" He took a deep breath. How to tell a 12-year-old these things! _She deserves to know_, he told himself, though he didn't feel as though he was doing the right thing; not at all.

"What? But… what?"

"I have a bad feelin', tha' 's all. You'll look out for her, won't you?"

"She's my friend, of course I will!" Bobbi cried, overly everything, as though offended but playing that she wasn't, shooting him a look like, _Oh, are you having one of those sick people moments?_

"Yeah?" _Don't get all teary_, he told himself sternly, though the bad feeling was still there, always still there, making him feel… not himself.

"Ye_s_! For the love of Merlin! Can you just-!"

"Don't." He winced. "Don't storm over there and… and tell her what I said, okay. Just, keep an eye out for her, be there if she needs you."

"Okay!" Bobbi snapped. She was really starting to get annoyed with him.

He patted her arm, and saw that his hand was shaking. _Oh, wonderful! Just wonderful!_ "I'll… leave you alone, then," he said, trying for a note of humour, and the girl rolled her eyes: No dah!

On his way back to the food court, he thought, _You shouldn't have said anything. What an idiot!_ For a moment, everything got a bit hazy, a bit unclear. He froze, willing himself not to fall over, willing the sudden disorientation to pass. _Go away! I can't change her mind! Just go away!_

"Lyle!"

In a rush, he snapped back to the food court, back to the bustling, the chatting, the brightness. He felt ill. "Emily."

"You look kinda pale," she said suddenly, on a less accusatory note.

"No, I'm fine," he replied.

She shook her head, then looked around her. "Whoever said people don't get out on a Sunday afternoon!" she commented, more as a distraction for herself than for him; she was annoyed at his dismissal, probably.

The girl with the hoop earrings was named Blanche, he thought. She was fifteen and a half, almost sixteen really. When she was a little girl, she'd really liked running. Nowadays, she'd do anything to get out of the compulsory school cross country; this year, she'd faked being sick. Well, sicker than usual. (Anyway, what she was wasn't really sick, was it? She was just… tired, fed up.) She'd drunken a lot of vinegar, just to see if it really did what people said it did, and had been pleased when she'd ended up throwing up. It had been a total laugh, really. Apart from the feeling ill and chucking her guts up part, of course, which had been… less of a laugh.

"…blueberry muffin or a strawberry lamington," Emily was saying.

He stared at her, glad her attention was off elsewhere, and nodded. He smiled. "Alright, well, you just go on and find us a table, and I'll see about that."

"And I don't take sugar in my coffee," Emily told him, already walking away to find a table.

"Sure."

Blanche's mother hadn't been happy that she'd gotten sick; she'd been mad, real mad. She looked like a Goddamn drugo, her mother had said, and that was fuckin' bad. Bad, bad, bad! She hadn't been able to stop, she'd been so mad. Blanche remembered that she'd gotten a headache later, and when she'd felt her head where her mom had yanked on her hair, sure enough, she'd had a really gross lump, like a bruise, she'd supposed. It had hurt. But no more than she was used to, the same old same old. Jesus, why was her mom such a fucked up bitch? she'd seriously wondered, for about a whole second, and that seemed like a lifetime of generous to her.

_Don't do it, Blanche_, he thought, but he was only thinking to himself. He was no telepath. _Run away! Just run away!_ He didn't want to think about where she might run to, or of what she might do to stay afloat when she got there. There had to be something, somewhere, some other alternative! There just had to be!

_No, no, not anymore. She just wants it to be over. Don't you _get_ it; finally, she's gonna be free. Free of all this shit! She's got something to look forward to for once in her Goddamn crappy existence on this Earth!_

The girl behind the counter gave him a weird look. He told her his order and tried to keep his hands from shaking so much. He didn't want her to think he was on anything. _Let it go_, he told himself sternly. _Emily's here now. Sometimes there's nothing you can do, and you just have to live with that and move on. It's in Blanche's hands now, and she's made her decision; she's made her mind up. Don't… say that she's a child! With all of the shit she's been through, don't you dare! It's her choice, show some fucking Goddamn respect. It's none of your business! Stay out of it!_

Forgetting to thank the girl and smile – She was busy with another customer and probably didn't notice, he thought later; she didn't expect people to say things like 'thanks,' she was doing her job and she got paid, 'thanks' didn't come into it. What a joke! Politeness was only another fallacy, anyway! People would act all polite one minute, and then backstab you the next – he headed back to the table Emily had chosen.

Emily made a face; she hadn't wanted a custard tart.

He smiled, but didn't say anything. He felt ill, really ill. Which was strange. He'd been doing good, hadn't he? He'd gotten to a level where it was okay, where it was working, so why this, why now?

He stood up suddenly. Fuck it!, he needed to get out of this crappy mall, somewhere where there was air, and the sky, and… and the ground and trees, real plants, not… not all of those stilted, struggling potted things. "Would you excuse me for a moment, Emily?"

"Of course," she replied, stirring her coffee incessantly, the same as she'd been doing for the last minute and a half.

"I won't be a moment," he told her, not thinking twice about the lie. He just felt sick.

* * *

"What's going on?" Emily asked, standing beside him suddenly with a pink frozen drink in hand, something like a strawberry slushie, in all likelihood, and he realised, abruptly, how long he'd been sitting outside, just trying not to think about anything.

"This is… this is a bad idea. Maybe I was wrong," he told her. "I… Catherine… I know what I said on the phone earlier, but I… It's what I do, Emily, I lie. But this- How is this supposed to work? How? Have you… Of course, of course you've given it some thought, a _lot_ of thought, I'd imagine, but…"

Emily took a seat beside him on the bench. "What?"

He turned to look at her, to look her in the eye, to be honest with her for once, even if not in words, even if she didn't know, "You don't… I don't…"

"What?" she repeated. "You're with someone? You think Jarod will find out and… go nuts? Guess what, it's my life, not his. And… it's the same thing for you, isn't it? We didn't- We didn't _choose_ for this to happen to us, it just did. We can't… just ignore it. We have to deal with it! And Jarod's just gonna have to do the same, whether he's happy about it or not."

He looked away from her, to the bus stop.

Emily hadn't taken her eyes from his. "Tell me! What?"

"It's too much. It's completely, entirely just too much. I don't want it. I don't want any part of it. I'm sick of all of those stupid little games everyone else seems to be playing with my life. I just want them to stop."

"That's exactly how I feel," Emily replied quietly.

He looked across at her. "Do you want a hug?"

"Is it for free?"

"Yeah, but just for today." He smiled, just a bit.

"Okay," she said.

So he hugged her, and he felt better, just for a little while. He felt safe. It was just them, just them and no one else. It was a relief.


End file.
